Undoing the Damage
by ToriTC198
Summary: "Police have detained a man named Erik Lehnsherr for questioning in the death of the president." The telepath felt his heart miss a beat as his mind instinctively reached out for Erik's. Unsurprisingly, he met silence; he already knew with a sinking feeling that his lover was not coming home from this mission." -A sequel to When an Unstoppable Force Meets an Immovable Optimist.
1. A Brief Moment of Peace

AN: First chapter of my sequel! Yay! Enjoy and thanks to all the lovely people supporting me as I write :)

* * *

The sound of a small explosion shook the house and Erik was halfway out of bed before Charles' arm snaked around and pulled him back down.

"It's just Alex," the telepath mumbled half into his pillow. "Stay in bed."

Erik snorted a disbelieving laugh, "Last time Alex blew something up he caught the greenhouse on fire."

Charles raised his hand lazily to his temple, eyes still closed as he sought answers, "This time he just broke the fountain outside. He already put the fire out and nothing we do can save the fountain. Stay in bed." His eyes opened to look at Erik, making sure that he wasn't still trying to leave.

With a sigh, Erik sunk back down into the bed and smiled at his lover. Charles was smiling gently back at him with the haze of sleep still lingering in his bright eyes. Erik reached an arm out and lightly brushed his fingertips against Charles' cheek, leaving his hand resting against the telepath's neck.

Charles sighed into the touch, his eyes drifting closed again. Erik shifted closer, pulling his lover's body against his and curling his arms around Charles' back. Mornings like this were his favorite thing in the world and he certainly wouldn't complain about being able to enjoy it longer.

It had been a little over a year since Cuba and every day Erik still wondered when everything was going to go wrong. It was too perfect and his life was _never _perfect. Hank had rebuilt Cerebro – much to Erik's complaints about Charles needing his rest – and Charles had started searching for students. Eighteen had been found so far and were scheduled to start in a month when the first term began.

Erik had spent his time divided between helping get the house ready, aiding Hank in rebuilding the jet, and going on missions.

It was usually just him and Raven going covertly into research labs and privately funded facilities holding mutants captive. They went in quietly, got the mutants out and then burned the building down behind them. As per Charles' request, they always made sure that anyone innocent got out alive. Secretaries, janitors… Anyone who had no actual involvement with the crimes being committed.

Everyone else… Well, Erik didn't really care if they survived or not.

Charles made it no secret that he hated when Erik left for a mission. They often had the potential to be dangerous and Erik's confidence was never quite enough to assuage the telepath's concern. It wasn't hard to see that Charles wished he could come with.

Erik wanted him to come too.

He had always pictured them fighting side-by-side. The wheelchair had changed all that. Charles had adjusted to it well, and he fought just as hard for mutants as Erik did, but he did it all from the mansion.

The telepath had convinced Erik months ago to stop apologizing for the chair – pointing out over and over that taking the bullet had been his own choice. That didn't stop the guilt that crawled up him every time Charles had to stay behind while he went off and risked his life. He suspected it would get easier once the school was running. Once Charles had more to do so he could focus on something other than the potential for danger that Erik was facing.

Neither one of them wanted to just let their fellow mutants suffer, so the missions were a necessary evil.

And the days spent away on missions made the lazy mornings like this seem so much better. Erik tried going back to sleep, lulled into a state of serenity by the peaceful quiet snores that had started emanating from Charles again. It didn't take long before the sun shining through the window had convinced him that he wouldn't be able to actually get back to sleep.

He used his arm to prop himself up, chuckling as the movement jostled a groan out of Charles.

Erik leaned over, half on top of Charles as he pressed a kiss to the telepath's forehead. One of those stunning blue eyes cracked open and a frown creased Charles' lips. "If you're leaving me for coffee, I'll never forgive you."

A full out laugh bubbled up from Erik's chest and he responded, "Well coffee is certainly part of the plan, but I really just need to get to work on the jet."

"So," Charles mumbled sleepily, "You're leaving me for coffee _and_ metal."

"Well they argue with me less."

The telepath muffled a laugh with his pillow as he tried to maintain the pretend glare that he was directing at Erik. He gave up with a brief eye roll and then demanded, "At least give me a proper kiss before you go."

Erik obliged gladly, running a hand through Charles' hair as he met his lover's smiling lips with his own. It was sloppy and languid, neither particularly awake yet, but if Erik could wake up like this for the rest of his life he would never complain about anything again. He let out an undignified moan when Charles lightly bit down on his lower lip and the telepath merely grinned up at him feigning innocence.

"Hank will be expecting me to show up soon, Charles." Erik tried reasoning even though he was really growing much more attached to the idea of staying in bed.

Charles wiggled a hand near his own temple and gave a mischievous smirk, "I can always just let Hank know you'll be late."

It wasn't even worth pretending to fight. Erik just leaned down and started kissing a line down Charles' neck, enjoying the slight shiver that jolted through his lover's body and the pulse of contentment and pleasure that Charles pushed into his mind.

* * *

Breakfast happened far closer to lunch-time that day, but none of the other residents of the house chose to mention it. There was a silent agreement among the mutants that no one should ever be allowed to cook except Erik, so they opted to not annoy him by commenting on his morning activities. Sean had tried cooking once and ended up putting jam in the spaghetti instead of tomato sauce. Raven's attempt had been a little better, but the amount of salt she put in was stunning. Hank could cook, but no one was particularly fond of picking blue hair out of their meal.

Erik was most definitely the only one capable of making good, edible, food.

He leaned against the counter sipping the coffee he had finally gotten out of bed to retrieve, and behind him the entire kitchen was a flurry of activity. A spatula was systematically putting bacon on the griddle and then pulling it back off, the waffle iron would open on occasion and dump a fresh waffle onto a plate before the bowl with batter would pour another lump of waffle mix onto it, and a whisk was busy scrambling a heap of eggs in a pan.

He had no idea what the rest of the house did for food when he was gone on missions. Probably just starved until one of them convinced Charles to order pizza.

The telepath was sitting at the table, slowly working on finishing off his tea while he read the newspaper. Every morning they followed the same routine for breakfast and even though they hardly talked it was peaceful and calming. It gave them a chance to enjoy each other's presence even when they hadn't quite woken up yet.

Of course, they were both plenty awake today, but their well practiced routine didn't falter.

As always, before Erik even had the chance to tell Charles that breakfast was almost ready, the telepath murmured, "I've let them know. Everyone will be here in five minutes except for Alex. He's still trying to repair the fountain in hopes that we won't notice it broke."

Erik chuckled as he turned off the stove and waffle iron with a flick of his wrist. Carefully, he carried the plates towering with food and placed them in the center of the table. He dropped a brief kiss to the top of Charles' head and then sat down next to him as Charles neatly folded the paper and placed it aside. Their hands reached automatically for each other, curling fingers around and squeezing lightly, and the telepath slowly rubbed a thumb along the back of Erik's hand.

Sean came barreling into the room first, snatching a waffle with his hand before he even sat down. With a yelp, he dropped it onto his own plate and glared at it as if it had offended him. "Why is it so hot?" he whined, cradling his hand.

"Maybe because I _just_ made it?" Erik responded, sarcasm dripping from him. "You know what might help? Using a fork. Try that next time."

The red head just stared balefully at the waffle and then with an exaggerated motion he made a show of picking his fork up to scoop some eggs and bacon onto his plate.

The rest of the group filtered in more calmly, Raven's smirk and knowing glance were the only indication any of them made about why breakfast was happening at 12:30 in the afternoon.

Alex came in sullenly, staring at the ground with red tinged around his ears. Before he could get out a stumbling apology, Charles held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't worry about it. I never liked that fountain anyway. We'll get a new one that will fit in better with some of the other renovations around here. Maybe Erik can give us some new metal sculpture or something." The last words were punctuated by a light mental nudge to let Erik know how much he would appreciate it.

Erik smiled easily and replied, "Of course. I'll work on it later today. I've got some metal scraps lying around from rebuilding Cerebro and I can repurpose them into a fountain easily."

Alex looked relieved, the tension seeping out of him. "I'm still sorry, Professor," he said. "I was trying to practice and I probably should have waited until I was more awake to do it."

"Well you know that for next time," Charles gave Alex a gracious smile.

* * *

It was Hank's turn for dishes, so Erik was excused from helping him build the jet for at least a little while. He took the time to wander down to Cerebro – still cursing it for the way it drained Charles – and gathered some of the leftover metal. He floated his pile behind him as he headed out to the front entrance of the mansion where the remains of an old fountain lay.

It really had been an ugly fountain and he was almost happy to see it go. It helped that Alex had apparently spent the morning clearing away the rubble; Erik had less to do that way. Most of the original marble was gone, but he was glad to see the inner machinery keeping the fountain going was still intact.

He concentrated on the metal floating beside him, twisting and turning it as he placed it in layers upon the foundation of the fountain. He made sure to build in a path for the water to follow as it bubbled up from underneath and he molded a new base large enough to hold the water that cascaded back down. He twirled the metal pieces in an intricate pattern that was reminiscent of a jet of water.

_It's beautiful._

Erik hadn't even noticed Charles joining him outside and the sudden voice in his head made him jump. The surprise quickly turned into a laugh as he turned towards the telepath. "You would think that after all this time I would be used to you sneaking into my head."

"Sneaking into your head would imply that I ever actually _left_ your head, my love. I assure you that I don't."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Erik reminded Charles. He walked closer to the younger man and grabbed onto his hand, pulling it to his lips for a soft kiss. "I feel empty when you're not there."

It was another one of the reasons Charles hated Erik going away on missions. Most of them took him too far away for the telepath to be able to maintain a proper link between them. It made them both feel lost when that familiar tether was stretched so far that it nearly snapped.

Erik gazed back at the fountain, admiring the smooth curve of metal glinting merrily in the sun. He reached with his power once more, feeling for the knob that would turn the water back on, and watched happily as the fountain sparkled to life.

Years ago he would never have dreamed that his power could be used for anything like this. It was once only meant for destroying things. Building new things, beautiful things, was still a marvel to him. Charles' gentle but firm squeeze of his hand let him know that the telepath understood his thoughts.

Of course, he always did.

Gratitude swelled inside him alongside the fierce love that he felt whenever he thought of Charles.

_I love you too, my friend._

Erik smiled and curled a hand around Charles' shoulder. "Once in a while, you could let me say it out loud before you interrupt me with your own declarations."

"Ah, but that would shatter the illusion of the always stoic Erik Lehnsherr. We wouldn't want that," Charles teased back.

The metal bender merely knelt down beside Charles and looked him in the eyes. "For you, I would gladly give up that illusion. I love you, Liebling." He leaned forward, brushing a chaste kiss against Charles warm lips.

The telepath radiated happiness as he ran a hand idly through Erik's hair while they both soaked in the sunlight.

* * *

He avoided it as long as he could, but eventually Erik ended up down in the hangar that had been hastily constructed to house the new jet. It wasn't that he didn't like Hank; on the contrary Hank was always easy to get along with.

The scientist was very touchy about the rebuilding of his jet though, and more often that not Erik was being snapped at for moving a piece of metal a little less gingerly than Hank liked. The jet was coming together rapidly, and Erik would be very glad when it was finished. It was shaping up to be even better than the one that they had crashed on the shores of a Cuban beach.

Today he was working quietly on delicately threading wires through the control panels. Hank had for once left him alone to his job and Erik enjoyed the peace of being able to just focus on the metal obeying his every command.

Behind him, the door opened and Erik heard footsteps nearing him.

"We have reports of another research lab," Raven informed him as she strode over to where Erik stood. "This one is in Dallas, Texas. Government funded and heavily guarded. We'll need to go in as quiet as we can."

Erik nodded at her even as he sent a thought to Charles letting him know there was another mission.

Charles' voice sounded tired but resigned as he sent back, _I'll start packing your suitcase._

That night, as they did every night, Erik pulled Charles' chair along with his power, leading them to the study. The all metal chess set welcomed them happily and Erik quietly made the first move. They played in silence for awhile, neither broaching the topic that was on both their minds.

Erik had learned already that it was better to just let Charles speak when he felt up to it instead of prying the words from him.

"So, where is it this time?" the telepath finally asked. He could easily have just taken the information from Erik's head, but at times like this he seemed to have some need to speak the words aloud.

"Dallas," Erik answered as he nudged his Bishop forward. "Government funded, rumor says they've got between five and eight mutants."

Charles let out a low whistle as he captured Erik's Bishop with his Knight. It wasn't often they found a place with that many mutants at one time. It was usually just two or three. They didn't say it, but they both understood that this meant the mission would likely be harder than most.

"You'll be taking Raven again?" Charles spoke as if he wasn't certain what he wanted the answer to be. It made sense, taking Raven put her in danger but not taking her made the danger to Erik worse.

The metal bender just nodded as he leaned back, steepling his fingers together while he surveyed the board. It was a lost game for him and he knew it already. There were at least three ways Charles could put him in checkmate within the next four moves.

That only left him one option for winning.

Erik shifted forward again in the seat, reaching to move his next piece. He waited until Charles started stretching a hand out to the board and then watched with amusement as the hand faltered. Charles glared heatedly at him and Erik just grinned widely as he continued thinking as hard as he could about the way Charles had looked underneath him that morning.

Beautiful pale skin flushed with heat, eyes closed as his fingers clutched at the sheets and his breath came in stuttering moans.

"That's cheating," Charles accused him, voice catching in his throat as he let out a soft gasp.

"I have no idea what you mean," Erik replied smugly. "Now, are you going to take your turn?"

Charles nearly growled at him as he darted a hand out and pushed a random piece forward. "Happy?"

"Very," Erik purred back.

It wasn't until two moves later – When Charles smirked as he called checkmate – that Erik realized the, 'random,' move Charles made had actually been quite deliberate. As carefully planned as all his other moves and one of the few that Erik hadn't been able to see coming.

Erik was torn between grudging affection and amusement. The telepath just smiled at him and projected an image of sleep across their link. Erik hadn't even realized how late it was and the reminder made him notice how tired his body was. He needed to be awake enough for the mission the next day so, unhappily, he agreed that going to bed was the best option even though he wanted to play another game.

These nights were always hard. He wanted to spend every possible second with Charles before he inevitably had to leave the next morning.

Erik waved a hand at the chess board, repositioning all the pieces in their proper place for the next round, whenever he they had another chance to play. Together they returned to their room and went to bed. Charles rested his head against Erik's shoulder and the metal bender wrapped both arms around the warm body beside him. They traded a brief but poignant kiss and Erik softly whispered, "I will come home, Liebling. I always do."

* * *

AN: This was mostly domestic fluff and I hope you enjoyed it because from here on out there will be a lot of angst.


	2. Dallas

AN: I apologize that this took longer than normal. I started an Erik RP blog and it has been consuming all my free time.

* * *

When the sun rose, filtering light through the crack at the bottom of the curtain, Erik groaned and rubbed his hand across his eyes in frustration. He had hardly slept at all. Not that he had expected to, he never slept well the day before a mission. Some part of him always wanted to stay awake, to enjoy the feel of Charles lying curled beside him, just in case it was the last time.

The clock on the bedside table let him know he had an hour before Azazel would be swinging by the mansion to pick him up. Erik's arm tightened unconsciously around Charles as he thought to himself that it wasn't nearly enough time.

It was _never_ enough time.

Charles moved against him, pulling him closer in a way that seemed far less sleepy than he should have been. It occurred to Erik that perhaps he was not the only one who spent the night awake and wishing that morning would never come.

_No, you were not. Yet morning came regardless of our protests._

Erik smiled sadly and pressed a kiss against Charles forehead. "Someday, we will need to locate a mutant who can stop time," he said in an attempt at levity.

"Well, for now, we will make do with what we have. Which should start with having breakfast before you leave. I'm already sending you off with no sleep I won't let you leave without food too."

With a resigned sigh, Erik dragged himself out of bed. He tugged on his clothes while Charles maneuvered himself out of bed and into his chair. Erik had tried helping once but Charles was adamant that he could be self-sufficient. "After all," he had pointed out, "If I rely on you all the time then what would I do when you're away?"

Erik had learned not to argue with Charles' insistence that he could do everything for himself. In truth, the telepath was usually ready faster than he was in the morning. More often than not, Charles was already waiting for him at the door by the time Erik finished washing his face. Not on days like today though. Today they both dragged their feet, sharing soft smiles and lingering glances as they went about their routine.

Rushing seemed to make the time go faster and that was the last thing they wanted.

Still, too soon, they made their way to the kitchen. Raven was there already, quietly eating a bowl of cereal. The only day that they ever ate anything other than Erik's cooking was when they were about to leave. It was an unspoken agreement the entire house made so Charles and Erik could have more time together.

Grabbing two more bowls from the cabinet, Erik sat down at the table and poured for himself and Charles. He slid the second bowl across the table, letting his hand linger on the side of the bowl long enough for Charles to brush against it with his fingers when he grabbed the offered food. The warmth of Charles' hand against his made Erik smile.

Breakfast was nearly silent, the clinking of spoons against bowls the only consistent sound. None of the others came down to join them and it left the atmosphere feeling peaceful.

Precisely on time, as always, the room filled with the telltale puff of red smoke and Azazel popped into the room.

Erik's eyes snapped to Charles, a moment of worry and love passing wordlessly between them. "Good morning, Azazel," Charles greeted the teleporter brightly without turning his gaze away from Erik. Erik was probably the only one who noticed that the smile the telepath displayed didn't come even close to his eyes. "How have you all been?"

"We have been fine. Angel and I are closing in on a facility in Mississippi, we hope to have a location and the number of captives to you within the week. Janos has gotten another step closer to rescuing Emma."

Charles hummed lightly to acknowledge the updates. "Glad to hear it. You are still being sure to remain covert I trust?"

"Always."

The pleasantries died down and Erik took a deep breath before standing up. He rested a hand on Raven's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. She briefly rested her hand on top of his, a silent acceptance of his command, before she too stood. She made her way to Charles' side first, just as she always did. He clasped her hands within his own, kissing them softly as he murmured something to her that Erik couldn't quite hear.

When Raven stepped away, Erik took her place. He lowered himself to one knee beside the chair and leaned forward to softly press a kiss to Charles' lips. The telepath's hand came up to rest against Erik's cheek and when the kiss broke Charles leaned his forehead against Erik's while his thumb traced along Erik's cheekbone.

"Bring her home safely," he started, just as he always did. "Don't take any risks and don't get hurt."

"Ich liebe dich, Charles," Erik whispered. "I'll be home soon."

He pulled away, feeling an ache start up in his chest as he went. He could feel Charles' mind curling around his tightly, trying to soak up as much time there as it could before they were too many miles apart for that connection.

Erik made his way to Azazel's side, Raven already positioned on the other, and reached out to grasp the teleporter's hand. The last thing Erik heard before the mansion faded was a hushed, _I love you too_, that danced across his mind.

Then he was standing in an alley and his mind was reeling from the loss of Charles in the same way it always did when they parted. His head pounded slightly as he unconsciously reached out to try to grasp onto the last echoes of his lover. Erik wondered – hoped – that parting would get easier in time. He wondered if this was how hard it was for every couple who had to part, or if it was unique to them because of the telepathic connection they had.

Either way, he was thankful for the way Raven just quietly rubbed circles against his back while he pulled himself together and the way Azazel disappeared without a word in a puff of smoke.

Erik straightened up, pulling away from Raven's gentle touch. He hardened his features and tried to pull Magneto out of himself. Magneto was the one who pulled off missions. Erik was the one who curled up with Charles at night and smiled whenever he was near.

Beside him, Raven became Mystique and the two strode out of the alley with a confidence that neither of them had felt earlier that morning. Their worries had no place here and they were well practiced in forgetting them.

Azazel had, as usual, dropped them a little over a block away from their target. It was a large building, concrete and glass rising from the ground in an ugly attempt at modern architecture. It made Erik sick to look at and know what was happening inside. It made Magneto angry.

Mystique glanced at him with a question on her face that Magneto answered automatically, "There's plenty of metal. It shouldn't be a problem once we're in," he met her gaze with a raised eyebrow and said, "Trojan Horse?"

A brief nod came from his partner and then her skin rippled as the blue woman in front of him became a portly guard wearing a uniform to match the ones the men at the facility wore. Erik didn't ask her who the man was; he trusted her enough to know she had done her research last night and made sure to find a guard who was off duty for the day.

Without wasting any time – because every second passed was another second for the researchers to torture their victims – Mystique pulled out a pair of handcuffs and snapped them around Magneto's wrists. Were she Raven right now, he was certain that she would have made some jokingly suggestive comment, but Mystique did it with a calm professionalism that only she could muster.

Her hand gripped onto the upper bicep of his left arm, digging in tightly and all but dragging him forward. The fingers were tight enough to bruise and Magneto used the pain to ground himself in the moment.

Mystique had played this part plenty of times and there was no hesitation in her step as she approached the doors with ease.

"I thought it was your day off, Victor," one of the guards called to her as she passed.

"It was," she responded with ease, "I traded shifts so I could have next Tuesday off instead. It's my mother's birthday."

Magneto just glowered at everyone as he passed, funneling the anger he felt against the facility into an act that would make him seem convincingly like someone who had just been captured. They passed through the doors without challenge and Mystique dragged him through corridors that she had likely only memorized the night before.

He almost felt like he was dragging her down sometimes. Mystique had the potential to be the best there was and Magneto was far too often distracted by the telepath in his bed.

They rounded one last corner, passing a group of guards who merely nodded at Mystique and smirked at Magneto. As soon as they were out of sight, his arm was finally released from her grip and he tore the handcuffs off his own wrists. Raven would have apologized for the bruises forming on his arm, Mystique just turned away from him without a word. Her skin shifted rapidly to its natural blue tone and she reached out for the handle of the first door she came to.

Before her hand touched the knob, she called over her shoulder, "The offices are down the hallway and to the left. The one with the files is supposedly the second door on the right." Then her fingers were curling around the handle and she was throwing the door open to reveal a huddled mutant teenager squinting up at the sudden light.

Magneto left her to her work as he followed her instructions. There was one guard between him and the office he needed, a guard he quickly knocked out with his own gun. As always, he felt the slight curl of bitterness in his stomach at the thought of leaving the man alive, but Charles had made his opinions on the matter very clear and Magneto continued to respect the telepath's wishes.

There was a plan to all of their missions. Rescue the mutants and get out, set off a fire alarm on their way, then collapse the entire building once all the humans were outside safely.

The one other thing Magneto insisted on doing was finding whatever research notes had been compiled and destroying them. He wanted no possibility that the research obtained through torture would ever get to be of use to the humans later.

He was about to open the door to the office Mystique had directed him to when he heard voices coming from the next door over. Usually he would have ignored it, proceeded with the plan like always and simply grabbed all the files before returning to Mystiques side. Something in the hushed tones told him this was important though and he slunk closer to hear better.

"You're positive?" a voice asked, low and worried.

"One hundred percent," said another voice.

Magneto heard the first give a deep sigh and there was a soft thud as if the speaker had just collapsed into a chair.

"We can't allow it," the first voice finally said. "We can't have one of them running our entire country. Who knows what kind of harm that could cause. Especially if he ever got wind of what we do. He would slap down laws for mutant rights and protections before we even had a chance to protest."

"What are you suggesting?"

Without hesitation the first man answered, "He'll be in the parade this afternoon; we won't get another chance like this. So, I suppose, I'm suggesting we kill the president."

"I can have the Soldier out of Cryo-freeze and ready to go in less than an half an hour."

Magneto stood motionless outside the door. His mind was blank, it stuttered across the words being spoken without truly grasping on to them. This was far bigger than anything they had come here expecting. Determination rose up in him as he realized that he couldn't let this happen. He couldn't allow a mutant to be murdered, especially one who had the power to save mutant kind.

Whirling around, Magneto hastily unlocked the door to the room with the files, stacking them all in a pile in the center of the room. He pulled the lighter out of his pocket with a slight tug of his power and he set the stack ablaze. He was out of the room in a heartbeat, leaving the papers to burn. The smoke would soon set off the fire alarm, prompting an evacuation.

He returned to Mystique's side, relieved to see she had already gathered all the mutants. Seven of them. Each looked more gaunt and pale than the last. The youngest seemed no older than eight but he could still clearly see the track marks of needles in her arm and the bruises left by restraints around her wrists. Magneto saw red but he pushed it down. They needed to get out and that was a far bigger concern than his own anger.

As expected, the fire-alarm started blaring less than a minute later. Voices started shouting and feet started running towards the exits. Magneto turned to Mystique, following her without question as she led them through twists and turns until they reached a way out. It was clearly not a door that was used often, and no one else had come this direction to escape, so they tore through the door and out into the bright sunlight of Dallas.

Magneto ushered the mutants through after Mystique had confirmed a clear path. The tottering group blinked painfully up at the sun as it fell into eyes that likely hadn't seen true light in weeks. As the last one strode out, Magneto felt the pull of metal coming closer and he signaled to Mystique that they were about to have company.

Her lips drew into a tight line, some small amount of Raven showing through in the worry that filled her eyes. For a moment he was concerned that she would come back to help him, but then she stood taller and steel determination formed behind her eyes. She took off with the mutants in tow and shot a single glance back at him over her shoulder.

He sent up a silent thank you that she had followed the plan. Getting the victims to safety had to be top priority every time. They both knew it even if they didn't like it. He turned to face the humans coming after him and he reached out for any metal within his range. Magneto stepped through the door, wanting to draw the humans outside of the building, and he latched on to the metal of the door itself, tearing it off its hinges and ripping it into strips of steel.

When the two guards came into view, guns already drawn, Magneto grabbed the weapons with ease, crumpling them into wads of useless metal and throwing them into the corner. The guards paused but soon continued their approach. He had to admire their bravery for that.

The second they stepped out the doorway, preparing to confront him, Magneto grabbed them both with the steel restraints and firmly secured them to the ground. Their protests fell on deaf ears and Magneto just stood basking in the sun for a few minutes. After he felt enough time had passed for the building to empty, he reached once more with his power, feeling out the metal supports running through the concrete of the walls. With careful precision, he yanked the metal from the building, tearing through the walls as he went until the weight of the roof became too much for the cracked and shattered concrete. With a roar, the entire thing collapsed in on itself, crushing every single part of the labs that had existed to torment his kind.

His mind turned immediately to the next problem on his list. President Kennedy. Magneto considered tracking down Mystique, getting her help in stopping the plan, but he decided against it. For one thing, he wasn't certain he had time. For another, the other mutants were the priority and Mystique was busy getting them to safety.

He had to do this alone if he was going to do it at all.

If he had been focusing just a little less on his own plans, he may have noticed the shadow following behind him, trailing him from the rubble of the research facility.

He made his way to the streets that were already thick with people anticipating the parade and he waited with them. He wasn't certain where along the route the strike would happen, so he positioned himself at the very beginning of the parade and sent his senses out on full alert, searching for any sudden movement of metal.

When the president appeared and his car started its slow progression down the street, Magneto moved parallel to it. He kept to the edge of the crowd, power on high alert as he wove through people – keeping the president in his sights at all times. When it happened, it was fast. He hardly had time to feel the gun being raised before the bullet was out of the chamber. He grasped it desperately, curving it in the only safe direction he could think of. The only direction that wouldn't risk it hitting someone else. He bent it up. It responded to his power, curving as it flew. No longer in danger of hitting the president in the chest where it had been aimed. Just a little more of a push and he would have it-

Pain bloomed across his temple and Magneto went down. The shock stole his concentration for only a second, but it was enough. He knew from the screams, and from the horrifying feeling of a bullet striking flesh, that he hadn't curved the bullet quite far enough. He was certain if he were to look he would see the former president with a bullet lodged in his skull.

Fury pulsed through him stronger than he had felt it in months. Magneto shifted his attention to the man who had knocked him down and he lashed out for metal. His power met with a belt, some buttons, and a gun holstered at his side.

He snapped.

His fingers twitched and the gun flew to meet them, he pulled himself to a standing position, finger poised on the trigger as he stared the man down.

"Go ahead, Mr. Lehnsherr," the man drawled. "Even if you kill me there are eight more men here with instructions to take you down."

The voice was familiar. This was the same man who had just an hour ago been planning the exact murder which had just been committed. Magneto felt his blood curdle as he realized that he hadn't been careful enough. Not only had someone clearly tracked him from the lab, but they knew who he was.

They knew his name.

"Yes," the man said as if reading his mind. "We know who you are. You didn't think you could bring down that many of our labs and still manage to stay under the radar did you?"

Panic.

Sheer, unreserved panic.

His only thought was of Charles and the school. The kids who would be arriving soon to live at the mansion. Magneto prayed desperately that these men had never made any connection between him and the school. Then the anger returned and with a curl of his lips Erik fired a bullet into the man's skull.

Before the body had even hit the ground, Erik was spinning around, searching out the men he knew would be racing to take him out. Adrenaline pounded in his veins and some part of him enjoyed the thrill of killing an enemy again.

Another man approached from the side, gun raised and ready. This gun was plastic and that thought worried him but he didn't give himself time to dwell on it. The gun in his own hand was metal and that was all he needed. With another squeeze of the trigger the second man fell and Erik felt a surge of pride. These men were evil. These men deserved to die and he had no problem being the one to deliver that judgment.

A shock of horror lanced through his mind. Horror that was not his own. Erik could feel Charles in his head with a sudden startling clarity and the telepath's revulsion was bleeding through into his mind. Erik felt another attacker approaching and without looking he fired another shot off.

He couldn't afford to think on Charles' moral terms right now. He couldn't afford to let Charles in.

With a sudden brutality, he threw Charles out of his head and slammed walls into place to prevent him getting back in. Erik would apologize later and beg forgiveness. Right now, he couldn't afford the distraction.

He could see the people fleeing all around him, running to get away from the madman with a gun who had just killed three people. It occurred to him that as far as the crowd knew, he had actually just killed four people. Comprehension burned through him when he finally acknowledged that he was going to be blamed for killing the president.

Four men came at him at once, all with plastic weapons and Erik fired again, feeling satisfaction as bodies hit the ground. All except the last one. With a dull click the gun in Erik's hand announced that it was empty and before Erik had the chance to come up with another solution he heard the burst of gunfire and felt the graze of a ceramic bullet dragging across his temple.

The world went black.

* * *

AN: It hurt to write that. And it will only get worse. Next chapter is going to be absolutely brutal. Fair warning, the next chapter will actually probably be the most angst of the entire story. I apologize in advance.


	3. Watch Me Fall Apart

AN: So, insanely sorry. I didn't mean to take two weeks to update this. I got distracted by my RP blog and was spending all my time writing Cherik feels on there instead of in the fic. Next chapter will not take so long.

Also, note that unlike all my previous chapters where I stay with the POV of either Charles of Erik, this chapter goes back and forth between them.

* * *

There was a moment of panic flaring through Erik's mind more intense than anything Charles would usually feel at this distance. The fear that came behind it was entirely Charles' own and he was on his way to Cerebro within moments. He could feel the emotion pouring from Erik, but he was too far away to reach anything else. He squeezed his hand around the controls of his chair, feeling the fingers go numb from the strain. Anxiety beat a steady tempo inside his head as he waited impatiently for Cerebro's doors to scan and recognize his eye.

Then he was inside and diving into Cerebro with speed and a single target of focus. Erik.

He found the man in Dallas, at the edge of a parade. Charles recalled dimly hearing something about a parade in Dallas today but he didn't remember what it was for. It wasn't important right now. All that mattered was what he saw through Erik's eyes and it wasn't pretty. Erik snatched a gun away from a man and without sparing even a moment to attempt a peaceful solution Erik blew the man away.

That was bad enough, but the thrill that Charles felt surge through Erik at the success was almost too much to handle. As Erik shot down a second man Charles couldn't help the flood of horror and shock that bled through from him and into Erik.

He regretted it the second the metal bender registered his presence. With vicious intent, Erik slammed his mind shut and pushed Charles out without warning.

It was similar to the sensation of falling in your dreams. You wake up when you hit the ground but you still feel that shock of panic as if it had all been real. Charles reeled backwards, tearing Cerebro's helmet off in a mad scramble to get away from the sensation of hollow emptiness that was clawing at his insides.

It had been so long. So very, very long since he last had to feel the loss of Erik's mind. There had been times of course that the connection was thin and fragile with distance, but never gone. Not since…

Not since Shaw. Shaw and Cuba and that bloody helmet of his. The helmet Charles had made certain was melted down to slag.

It physically hurt to be shoved so violently away from a mind that Charles had begun to think of as an extension of his own. He felt crippled all over again and losing Erik's mind was far worse than losing his legs had ever been. Tears streamed down his face as he clutched at his head, trying to quell the hollow feeling of emptiness inside it.

He composed himself as quickly as he could, then made his way back upstairs for a cup of tea and the chance to recover. He sat in silence for a few minutes, still struggling to get control of his pounding heart and aching head. When he was focused enough on the real world, he heard the crackling sound of voices coming through the radio in the next room.

It was a news update and it was the first thing to finally inform Charles what had happened.

'Police have detained a man named Erik Lehnsherr for questioning in the death of the president.'

The telepath felt his heart miss a beat as his mind instinctively reached out for Erik's. Unsurprisingly, he met silence; he already knew with a sinking feeling that his lover was not coming home from this mission.

Instead of the fear he had been trying to ignore, Charles now felt a surge of anger. Now that he knew Erik was safe, all he could think of was the utter betrayal of what Erik had done. The stupid man had turned his back on everything that the two of them had been working to build; he had gone back to his old methods of killing without thought and fighting against humanity.

More than that, he had endangered the entire school. By killing the president, Erik had just painted a target on every mutant in the world and if he was tracked back to the mansion the school would be the first place the government shut down.

Fury like Charles had never felt before flooded through his system and it was kind enough to drown out the pain of Erik's loss. The raw wound of betrayal stung dully in the background of rage.

Charles found himself viciously glad that he was no longer in the head of a man who could so easily destroy everything. The telepath grimly shoved a wall up in his own mind, if Erik tried to find his way back in, he would meet nothing but rejection. Charles bitterly hoped that it would hurt Erik as badly as it had hurt him.

The wall wouldn't be permanent. Charles knew he would never be able to stay mad forever. But for now, he wanted nothing to do with Erik's mind. Let Erik suffer through his first few months in prison without the benefit of having Charles to ease the time.

* * *

Erik woke to a throbbing head and aching wrists. The head was explained easily enough, he remembered the bullet grazing his skull as it passed him. He had to move to figure out the wrists though. Nausea boiled up in him as his head protested moving at all, but Erik had to know. He lifted his head enough to take in his surroundings and his blood ran cold.

He was laid out on a medical table, wrists cuffed to either side by thick plastic. Fear tore through him stronger than anything else as he flashed back to the last time he had found himself on a table like this. Shaw's ministrations had been years ago, but the memory was no less vivid now as he looked around the sterile room. This was a place he had never wanted to be again.

His mind reached for Charles automatically, wanting to whisper an apology into his lover's head, but he met nothing but silence and the panic finally overwhelmed him completely.

Doors slid open to his left and men trailed in with white lab coats and grim faces. Erik pulled at the cuffs around his wrists, trying desperately to get free as the strangers approached.

"Oh, don't bother with that Mr. Lehnsherr," One of them said in a mockery of friendliness. "We made quite certain they were secure. No metal either."

Another one peered down at him, poking lightly at the crusted blood on his temple as he spoke to the others, "Looks like the bullet hardly even broke the skin. The force of it probably caused a concussion, but no lasting damage. I would have been quite unhappy if they had killed him." The same man then directed his words to Erik as he added, "You have a very remarkable mutation. Probably the most powerful we've seen. I am quite interested in studying it."

There they were. The words Erik had been dreading. Knowing it was futile, he yanked again at the restraints on his wrists, pulling until the plastic dug into the skin and warm blood spilled out freely. He hurled threats at the surrounding scientists as his body thrashed on the table fighting with everything he had to get free.

The group shared a look on concern and then one of them stepped forward brandishing a needle. Erik reached for it with his power, expecting to find metal but sensing nothing at all. As it got closer he realized it was glass, there was nothing he could do as the needle pressed into his arm and a drug entered his bloodstream.

Cold filled him and his struggles grew weaker as the world faded away.

The next time he woke, his entire body was strapped down and he couldn't move at all.

The lack of movement did nothing to hinder the screams that tore out of him as the researchers began their work.

* * *

After a day and a half of tense waiting, a cloud of red smoke filled the living room and Raven stepped out with Azazel. She looked furious and Charles understood perfectly why. At least he thought he did. Erik had betrayed them all and that seemed like a perfectly good reason to be furious, but the anger Raven had was not directed where Charles expected it to be.

"I can't _believe_ the nerve of the humans!" She hissed out. "Erik warned us this would happen, he told everyone that the humans wouldn't accept us and now they've taken him away."

"Raven," Charles tried to placate her even as his own emotions still stung with the pain, "They took him away because he murdered the president. It has nothing to do with him being a mutant."

She snarled at him, "Like hell it doesn't. They knew he was there, they had plastic guns. I bet he didn't even kill the president they just framed him for it!"

Again Charles tried to reason with his fuming sister, "I wish you were right, but I was in his head, Raven. I saw him killing those men. He enjoyed it. His arrest is his own fault and we cannot blame the humans for it."

Raven stared at him in mute shock for a few moments, letting his words roll over her. Then her face dropped into the mask that Erik always referred to as Mystique and she turned on her heel to walk back to Azazel. She curled her hand around his arm and said, "You don't understand, Charles. You haven't seen the places Erik and I have been. You haven't seen the mutants we have rescued. I won't just sit back and let them win."

Then with another burst of smoke she was gone. Charles stared at the place she had last stood for a few minutes before the tears started. Then he dropped his head into his hands and wept as he felt his entire world falling apart.

Raven never came back.

* * *

Blood bubbled up in a wet cough as Erik struggled to breath around the liquid in his lungs. He didn't know how long he had been down in this plastic prison but he knew he had started wishing for death practically the first moment they had shown up.

He couldn't count all the ways he had been cut into or how many bones they had broken. Once or twice he had tried to reach Charles again, needing that connection to keep him sane, but the wall was still as impenetrable as ever. Then, Erik remembered that the mental connection went both ways. If Charles were to enter his mind the telepath would feel every ounce of pain that Erik did. With that thought in mind Erik built his own mental walls, eager to make certain that even when Charles eventually forgave him he would still never have to feel this pain.

The skin across his back was bleeding and raw from where they had trickled acid just to see what effect it would have on a mutant. Big surprise, the effect was the same as it would be on anyone else. Erik had gone hoarse with screams as the burn ate away at him.

Then he had been tossed back in his cell so viciously that it had broken the ribs which had been cracked a week before. Now every breath was nothing but sharp pain shooting through his chest as he pleaded in his head for relief. Even he didn't know if the relief he sought was medical care or death.

What he received was doctors coming into his cell and hoisting him onto a gurney before rolling him off to surgery.

It made sense; they didn't want to lose their favorite plaything.

* * *

The first semester of the school went spectacularly poor. Charles drifted from one class to the next never really paying attention to what was happening. Alex trailed after him some days, pestering him with questions about whether or not he was okay.

Charles often wanted to snap back at the young man that of course he bloody well wasn't okay. His lover had betrayed him, returning to the idea of kill or be killed that he had sworn to leave behind. His sister had followed after, making a few failed attempts to break Erik out before giving up and forming her own team that went around decimating mutant research labs.

The mutants who had once made up the Hellfire club had not shown up at the mansion since the day Raven left, they all seemed to side with her. Sean had left within a month, joining Raven and her team on their missions because he was tired of sitting around with Charles while other mutants died.

If Charles were to name a reason that he never actually did snap at Alex, it would be because the young mutant was one of the few things Charles still had. Hank and Alex.

For a brief moment, he had entertained the thought that Erik might yet be redeemable, and Charles had lowered the walls in his mind so he could seek out Erik. The deafening silence as he found a mind still cut off from his was all the proof Charles needed to let him know Erik truly had abandoned him.

Somehow, something had happened in Dallas that made Erik decide to throw away everything they had for the sake of returning to his old lifestyle. The thought burned at Charles as he kept asking himself why his love hadn't been enough. On repeat through his mind were the questions, _Was it really hopeless from the beginning? Was Erik beyond saving all along?_

The school was some comfort just because it existed, but ultimately it was a hollow joy. He was never supposed to be running this school alone. Erik belonged beside him and without that he couldn't manage to find the happiness that had once permeated these halls.

* * *

After a few months, they had their first mistake. A scientist who had grown a little too lax in his caution.

Erik felt the metal the second it came into his range. He had to struggle not to physically strain for the bright glowing thing at the edge of his power. It felt so good to sense something again but he maintained his reason enough to know that he couldn't risk letting them know that it was there.

As he felt out the foreign piece of metal, Erik let the physical world fade away until the damage being done to him was just a tug of pain in the back of his mind. What did it matter that they were flaying the skin from his shoulder as long as he could focus on this tiny piece of metal.

A paperclip.

It felt amazing at the edges of his mind.

He waited patiently, knowing that the right moment would come eventually. It took nearly an hour of bated breath and choked down screams before the chance came. None of the researchers were focused directly on him and it was all the time Erik needed to flex his power and wrap it around the paperclip. He brought the small metal piece soaring out of the pocket he had found it in and into his hand.

Erik curled his fingers around it, hiding it from view as he shaped the precious material into a small but sharp edge.

With another surge of power, he sent the weapon out. It sliced cleanly through the necks of all three researchers in the room, spraying Erik with warm blood as he called the metal back to him and used it to cut away the straps holding him to the table.

He surged away from the blood soaked area, stumbling briefly as the dizziness from his own blood loss tried to overcome him. Erik pressed on though, shoving out the door to the labs and wandering into the corridor beyond. Blood dripped off him and he didn't know what was his and what belonged to the dead men behind him, but he didn't care. He just cared about the tiny piece of metal that floated along beside him and the taste of freedom somewhere at the end of this hall.

Something thudded into his neck and with a startled cry Erik's hand flew to the point of impact. A plastic dart pierced into him and his legs gave out as darkness flooded in. The last thing he felt was the small piece of metal being grabbed by someone who swiftly carried it as far away as it could go.

Erik sobbed out a broken cry as he felt that small sensation of power cut off again.

* * *

The draft orders came on a lonely Saturday afternoon. Alex's name printed on a stark white envelope. There were others too, some of the teachers Charles had hired but never grown attached to. It was Alex's name that broke him though.

The school announced within the day that it was shutting down. Charles couldn't handle it anymore. He sent all the kids away along with all the teachers except Hank and Alex. They spent one last week together, trying to pretend that none of this was real, and then they said their goodbyes.

The day Alex left for boot camp Charles spent immersed in a bottle of scotch.

* * *

Erik strained against the table, trying in vain to get away from the glass scalpel slowly sliding through the flesh between his ribs. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into the skin of his palms, and his lips bled from the teeth marks he had made in an effort not to scream.

He was so tired of screaming.

This time they were testing how long a mutant could remain conscious with a punctured lung. The glass blade bit down further, tearing through the organ and Erik convulsed on the table as he felt the blood starting to stream into his air supply.

His chest grew tighter with the need to pull in a full breath but the single working lung couldn't manage to mitigate the damage to its partner and Erik felt the blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth as his hands clawed against the table. Darkness crept into his vision and he cursed everything that had brought him to this point.

He cursed humanity, he cursed himself, he cursed the researcher standing off with his clipboard taking notes, he cursed Shaw, he cursed the desire to save the president, and most of all he cursed the fact that he was still alive when for years now all he wanted was for the pain to end.

* * *

Charles' head pounded as he took another drink of scotch. There was no glass anymore; he just pulled swallows straight from the bottle. His hand clenched against a knee that couldn't feel the pressure of his fingers and the telepath wanted to scream.

Then Hank came in, loyal and wonderful Hank with a syringe in his hand and a smile on his face.

"I've gotten it perfect, Professor. This should work for everything you asked."

Charles allowed a bittersweet smile to crawl up his face as he took the drug into his hand. It glinted orange through the glass and he held it gently, almost reverently as he thanked Hank for his help.

Everything he had asked for. Charles hoped Hank was right because Charles had asked for quite a bit. He wanted something to turn off all the God-forsaken screaming in his head. The scotch could only drown out so much and lately all Charles could hear with his telepathy was the pain of those around him. Once his gift had shown him the beautiful parts of those around him. Charles didn't know when that had changed, but he was sick of hearing nothing but agony.

Hank's voice broke through again and Charles looked at him with gratitude he couldn't express as the words came out, "I added something extra too. I think that the serum can help you walk again as well. Of course, the primary function is combating the mutation, but it should be capable of both."

Without a second thought, Charles pressed the needle into his arm and pushed the plunger down, curling his hand into a fist as he felt the rush of cool liquid entering his blood stream.

For a moment nothing happened, then slowly the voices and the screaming faded into the darkness of his mind.

"Thank you, Hank." Charles murmured as he took another swallow of scotch.

* * *

The second time Erik got a hold of metal he made it farther than the first. Some idiot had been in a hurry and skipped the metal detector, confident in his own ability to make sure there was no metal on him, but the metal screws of his glasses were more than enough for Erik. He pulled them out with ease, not even taking time to revel in the feel of metal. He drove the screws straight through the man's skull and then swept through the room drilling holes in everyone present.

This time he didn't have to worry about undoing his own restraints. The man had come in at the tail end of one of Erik's sessions and he was already off the table and being walked back to his cell. Blood dripped freely from the gouges in his side, but this was a chance Erik probably wouldn't get again so he didn't dare wait.

He pushed away the pain, compartmentalizing it to the back of his mind for later, and he ran down the hallway being careful not to slip in his own blood. He could feel it the moment he reached the edge of the no metal zone and the flood of power he felt nearly brought him to his knees.

It was everywhere, in the walls, on the desks, in buttons and belts and pocket knives. Erik grabbed on to everything he could possibly reach and he pulled it to his will, driving metal through bodies with no regard for who the people were or what part they played in his torments.

The thud of bodies falling sounded from every direction, mingled with the screams of those still trying to get away. Then from the corner of his eye Erik saw a woman reach for a button and before he had the chance to stop her she slammed her hand down on it. Moments later there was a metal pipe through her chest but it was too late.

Gas filled the air and Erik roared in frustration as he limped to the exit. It was so close, he could see daylight for the first time in nine and a half years but as he got closer the light outside grew dimmer.

When he woke up he was in a new cell, this one had a glass ceiling with a small hole over to the side which Erik soon discovered was for the delivery of meals.

His wounds had been treated with the usual minimum amount of care, but as the days passed and he slowly healed he realized that they had not come to cause him more pain.

Clearly he had been deemed more trouble than he was worth and had been left to rot away in solitary confinement for the rest of his life. Erik felt the closest thing to joy that he had experienced since the morning he left Charles.

Charles.

He hadn't thought about Charles in years. It had seemed wrong to bring memories of someone so pure and radiant into a place as dark as the hell Erik lived in. Now he let the past flow over him and the tears leak out as he thought about everything he had once had.

* * *

Hank had stopped trying to get Charles to recover. Charles was amazed frankly that the man even stayed with him. Everyone else had left; it seemed Hank should have abandoned him too. Instead Hank did the shopping and the cooking, Hank prepared more serum for Charles whenever it was asked of him. Hank never complained about the startling rate that they went through scotch and he never commented on the hours Charles spent sitting in front of a half-finished chess game.

In fact Hank was the perfect person to share a house with. It was because of this that Charles was quite surprised to hear a loud commotion coming from the hallway. It wasn't like Hank to make so much noise when he knew that Charles was prone to such bad headaches.

Curiosity stirred Charles to his feet and he traipsed out of his room to find Hank hanging from the chandelier as he growled at a stranger collapsed on a table below.

* * *

AN: Finally at the point where DOFP storyline will start to take over. Who is looking forward to the prison break? I know I am.


	4. A Broken Man

AN: I wrote a prequel to this series which follows some of Erik's early life. It's just a 3,000 word one-shot about Nazi Germany but you all should check it out. It's called Waking Nightmare. (Heed the trigger warnings)

On the note of trigger warnings, this chapter has a trigger warning for drug use.

* * *

"Hank, what's going on here?" Charles' gaze was confused as he took in the scene, not really comprehending what he was looking at. For once even the glass in his hand – which, Charles noted in annoyance, was empty again – didn't help the scene make sense. Hank was never blue anymore, yet blue was indisputably his color now, and the man sprawled on the table was looking more familiar the longer Charles stared at him, but he couldn't quite place him.

Then the stranger – if he actually was a stranger – called him by a title he hadn't heard in years. "Professor?"

Charles would have flinched away from the word if there wasn't so much alcohol running through his system. The peaceful numbness was enough to quell the pain that term would otherwise bring. So instead of flinching, Charles merely replied with a tired sounding, "Please don't call me that," as he drew closer to the unusual scene.

Hank, still inexplicably hanging by his feet from the chandelier, asked in confusion, "You know this guy?"

Stopping briefly on the landing, still trying to get his wits about him, Charles replied, "Yeah, he looks… slightly familiar." It was the truth, though a name continued to elude him. Charles was certain now that he had at least met the man before. As his rather dulled mind tried to dredge up memories of the past – something he often avoided doing at all costs – Charles added, "Get off the bloody chandelier, Hank."

With a single fluid movement the blue mutant was back on his feet and staring up at Charles as he continued moving down the stairs.

"You can walk."

The confused statement, nearly a question, drifted off the stranger's lips and Charles felt a slight tug of annoyance at the words. He wasn't fond of remembering the times he had spent in his wheelchair. There was far too much pain down that road. He pushed against the urge to let the past reclaim his mind and instead he answered with acidic sarcasm, "You're a perceptive one."

"I thought in Cuba-"

"Which makes it slightly perplexing," Charles continued as if the man hadn't mentioned the past again, "that you managed to miss our sign on the way in." He found his energy flagging already despite how little he had moved. It was likely the exhaustion that always came when the past tried to creep back up on him. Charles sat heavily down on the stairs, still half a flight between him and the other two men. He let his anger and annoyance start to filter into his voice more thoroughly as he continued speaking, "This is private property, my friend, I'm going to have to ask…" he paused, realizing that he wasn't in any shape to be able to force this man to leave. Instead he gestured to Hank with the hand still grasping the empty scotch glass, "…_him_ to ask you to leave."

Charles' hand came up to rub lightly at his temple as he tried to erase the last few minutes from his head. It had called too many thoughts to mind that he liked to avoid and his skull pounded with the need for more alcohol and possibly another dose of serum. Just to be safe.

"Well," the man said in a tone that Charles very much didn't like. The kind of tone that implied the man had no intention of leaving. "I'm afraid I can't do that because, uh," he paused, stretching slightly to work out whatever muscles he had likely hurt by being thrown onto the table, but the suspicion was confirmed already. Clearly the man wasn't going to make it easy to get rid of him. "Because I was sent here for you," he concluded at last.

Sent here. The words almost made Charles want to laugh. There was nothing he could offer anyone, no reason anyone would want him. It was ridiculous that someone would send for him. Annoyance was still the dominant emotion though, so instead of allowing the bitter laugh to escape his lips Charles, replied, "Well tell whoever it was that I'm… busy."

It seemed a good excuse. He _was_ busy. He had a large supply of scotch to drink. If he didn't do it, who would? It was a sacrifice Charles was willing to make.

"That's going to be a little tricky," was the answer he got back. The man seemed to be picking his words carefully, thinking them over and deciding on each one long before it came out. "Because the person who sent me, was you."

"What?" The question popped out of him before he could help it. Charles sat up a little straighter and his eyes narrowed some in confusion. He wouldn't claim that any of this exchange had made sense, but this last sentence certainly took the prize for the oddest thing he had heard in years.

At least until the stranger added, "About fifty years from now."

That was without doubt, the most insane claim anyone had ever tried to convince him of. That touch of humor he had felt before swelled up again, still as bitter as it had been the last time. "Fifty years from now? Like, in the future fifty years from now?" The man gave an affirmative answer as Charles kept talking, "I sent you? From the future?"

It would be far less disconcerting if it weren't for how completely serious the stranger seemed. Even without his telepathy, Charles considered himself a good judge of when someone was lying. This man wasn't. Or at least he didn't believe he was. Charles turned to Hank, half to see his reaction and half to try convincing himself that this was all a hallucination. If Hank was gone, or not reacting to the words, Charles could convince himself the stranger was just a product of his mind. This entire day, just a dream.

However, Hank was there and looking just as perplexed as Charles.

"Piss off," Charles muttered to the man. The stranger was delusional. It was the only explanation for the entire story. For some reason, the man truly believed what he was saying despite it, obviously, not being true.

Then, in a voice that made it quite clear that he thought the next words were going to be the winning argument, the stranger said, "If you had your powers you would know I was telling the truth."

Charles' heart faltered in his chest as the truth did its best to slam against his skull. "How do you know I don't have my-" his words stopped as Charles finally felt the last vestiges of sarcastic humor drop from his attitude. This wasn't a stupid joke anymore, not a prank or simply the confused ramblings of an insane man. Charles' brows drew together as he clung to the small hope of denial that still remained. "Who are you? Are you CIA?" It made sense in a convoluted way. If they had found him, kept tabs on him, the CIA could easily know about his loss of powers.

"I told you-"

"Are you watching me?" he asked, ignoring the other man's words.

"-I know you, Charles." The stranger continued, ignoring Charles' words just as easily as his own were avoided. "We've been friends for years." The man started walking around the table, coming closer to Charles. The words kept spilling out of his mouth and Charles sat frozen on his stairs while his mind screamed at him to stop listening. "I know your powers came when you were nine. You thought you were going crazy when it started, all the voices in your head. It wasn't until you were twelve you realized all the voices were in everyone else's head. Do you want me to go on?"

No. No he really didn't. It was too late though, the words had been spoken and the damage was done. "I never told anyone that," Charles stated dully. It was a rather pointless thing to say because clearly this man knew about it regardless.

"Not yet no, but you will," He spoke with such confidence and talked of things that he had no way of knowing.

The haze of scotch had long worn off and Charles finally assented, "Alright you've peaked my interest, what do you want?"

"We have to stop Raven. I need your help." Another pause filled the room before the man amended, "_We_ need your help."

The years without walking, Cuba, telepathy, Raven… There were so many strings to his past all being tugged at once and Charles wanted to slam that door shut again. It was too much. It couldn't be real, none of this was real.

A dream. That made sense. His subconscious mind tormenting him again. That was why this man knew things he shouldn't. "I think I'd like to wake up now," Charles spoke aloud as a broken smile tugged at his lips. This couldn't really be happening. That made it no less painful to hear the words, but it at least made it more tolerable.

It wasn't real.

It wasn't…

But it was. Everything inside Charles insisted he was awake no matter how badly he wished it wasn't true.

He dragged himself off the stairs at last and welcomed the stunned silence that followed in his wake as he wandered into the study. He liked the study. There was plenty of scotch stored here.

It only took a moment for the blessed quiet to end as the man trailed after him and started speaking again. Charles noted dimly that he acted like he had won, so whoever the man was he seemed to know Charles well enough to realize when he had given in. "My name it Logan, and in the future I come from, mutants are nearly extinct, I'm sure within a year we'll be gone completely. They sent me back to stop it, and that requires stopping Raven."

Charles didn't answer but he didn't reject the words this time either. Instead he turned to face the stranger, named Logan apparently, and waited for more.

"At the Paris Peace Conference, Raven is going to kill a man named Bolivar Trask and that will result in her capture. Through her DNA, they create machines, Sentinels, that can change to combat any mutation. They target us and wipe us out."

It was a lot of information, and now that Charles had somewhat agreed to take this visit seriously he was finding it difficult to wrap his mind around. He turned his back on the man again, reaching for the scotch and pouring himself a generous amount. "So, you're saying, that they took Raven's power and what? They weaponized it?" The nod from Logan was accented by Hank reminding Charles that Raven was unique. "She is, Hank," he said with the same tone of fondness that he had never quite gotten rid of even ten years after her abandonment.

"In the beginning they were just targeting mutants. Then they began to identify the genetics of non-mutants who would eventually have mutant children." Logan kept talking; painting a terrifying future that sounded far too similar to one Erik had warned him of once. Charles made his way to the couch, falling upon it and studiously not letting his eyes linger on the chess set sitting in front of him. There were enough reminders of his past today.

As the somber story finished, Charles took a long drag of alcohol before responding. "Let's just say for the sake of… the sake, that I choose to believe you…" It was already far too late for that so he amended, "that I choose to _help_ you. Raven won't listen to me." The final words came out with a bubble of laughter which failed to hide the pain the sentence caused him.

He remembered well the moment she decided to chase after some foolish thought that Erik was innocent. How she had walked out on him to continue the war on humanity that Erik had once wanted. The war Erik had started in Dallas without a second thought for the man waiting for him at home. Raven had left him for the same cause Erik had left him for and in the end Charles had been abandoned by everyone except Hank.

War was apparently a better companion than Charles.

"No, her heart, and soul, belong to someone else now," He tacked on bitterly to the end of his sad claim. Erik's war had taken her. _Erik_ had taken her.

"I know," Logan said as he walked closer. "That's why we're going to need Magneto too."

It was like being doused in ice water in the same breath that he was burned alive. That name tore at him like no other and Charles couldn't stop the way he flinched away from it. He had tried so many times to reach Erik back when he still had his telepathy. The pain of meeting that wall time and time again was still fresh in his mind even years later.

Charles could easily have torn it down, flooded into the man's mind regardless of his welcome, but he refused. If Erik wanted nothing to do with him then that was exactly what he would have. Charles made that decision a long time ago.

"Erik?" Hank asked, confusion in every inch of his posture, "You do know where he is?"

Hysterical laughter sounded through the room and it took Charles a moment to realize it was coming from him. He got to his feet, still unable to stop the laugh, and rounded on Logan. As suddenly as it had arrived, the laughter stalled and Charles' voice filled with anger as he insisted, "He's where he belongs."

Prison. That was where Erik deserved to be. He had assassinated the president, then killed more men in his attempts to evade capture. Erik was serving his time like any other person would for committing that crime.

It was justice.

"That's it? You're just gonna walk out?" Logan's voice challenged him as he left the room.

Charles graced him with a slight turn and the raised glass of scotch in salute as he stated, "Oh, top marks. Like I said, you are perceptive."

"The professor I know would never turn his back on someone who had lost their path." Logan argued as Charles neared the stairs. Another sip of scotch burned down Charles' throat and he didn't even pause in his stride. That is, until Logan spoke again. "Especially someone he loved."

He rocked backward a step, reeling mentally to recover from the stark reminder of what he once had with Erik. Charles took a deep breath, willing away the ache in his chest, and then he rounded angrily on Logan.

How dare this man come into his house and ask this of him.

Something in the anger and the smell of scotch finally got the memory of who this man was to resurface in Charles' mind. He remembered a bar, thick with smoke and pounding with music. He remembered Erik, beside him. His partner.

And he remembered a man sitting at the bar, rejecting them before they even spoke their offer.

"You know," Charles said as he strode back towards Logan. "I think I do remember you now." He kept his tone conversational at first and made every effort to conceal the way his entire body hurt from the mention of loving Erik. "Yeah, we came to you a long time ago seeking your help." A smile grew on his lips as his voice grew colder. "I'm going to say to you, what you said to us then. _Fuck_ _off_."

As he bit the last words out, losing the smile completely, Logan reached forward and grabbed the collar of his robe with anger flickering in his eyes.

"Listen here, you little shit," Logan growled out as he dragged Charles closer. "I've come a long way, and I've watched a lot of people die, good people, my friends. If you want to wallow in self-pity, and do nothing, then you're going to watch the same thing you understand?"

Throughout the impassioned speech Charles maintained his sarcastic smile, only letting it fade towards the end as he was released from the man's hold. With a sauntering step back, he replied, "We all have to die sometime."

He turned again, this time retreating up the stairs unhindered and hoping that Hank would toss the intruder through a window.

His footsteps grew slower as he neared his room. Charles could feel the weight of the day's events pressing against him and he wanted to collapse rather than deal with the pain. He longed for something he wouldn't allow himself to name, but the sight of the room which he had once shared with Erik was more than enough to remind him that what he really wanted was to go back to those happier times.

It had been less than six months after Erik's betrayal that Charles moved into a guest room rather than stay in the master bedroom. He couldn't face looking at Erik's side of the room every morning, so now the entire thing sat collecting dust. Untouched for nearly a decade.

That didn't stop the door from mocking him whenever he walked past it. A sharp and agonizing reminder at all times of what he once had.

Charles finally did make it to his own room, pushing the door open weakly as he clung with the other hand to the now empty scotch glass. He would need to pour more. He couldn't quite remember if it would be his second glass of the day or his third. Either way, it was nearly three in the afternoon so he was actually doing better than normal. Usually he would be on his fourth by now.

He didn't make the conscious decision to grab the case holding the serum and the elastic band, but Charles found his hands closing around it regardless as he made his way to the chair by his bed. With confident, practiced movements Charles tugged his robe off and wrapped the band around his arm. He pulled it tight with his teeth, filled the syringe with the marvelous orange liquid, and lightly palpated the vein in the crook of his arm to enlarge it. One quick movement later and he felt the warm rush of the drugs within his system, numbing out his mind as he took a deep breath and let the relaxation flow through him.

Charles pulled the elastic band from his arm, placing it carefully back in the case with the rest of the supplies, and then he let the entire thing fall from his hands to land gently on the floor. He reveled in the fog filling up his head, chasing away the past and all the demons that came with it. Charles leaned back in his chair as his gaze drifted lazily around the room.

He regretted that decision the moment his eyes fell on the small table on the opposite side of his bed.

Raven.

The already dredged up past flooded through him again, taking him farther back than he usually went. He remembered finding her in the kitchen, he remembered deciding to protect her.

Charles' head tipped against the back of the chair as his eyes drifted shut in one last futile attempt at fighting the decision he had already made.

This wasn't about Erik. It wasn't about the hurt and the betrayal constantly surging under Charles' skin. It was about Raven.

It was about the fact that if he didn't help, Raven would be captured.

Charles stood up reluctantly, shooting one final glance at the smiling blonde in the picture by his bed. For her, he would do anything. Even if it meant facing the man who had willingly thrown away everything they had.

It was easier to move now that the choice was made, his feet didn't resist the steps he took and Charles steadily walked down the stairs again. Hank was still standing in the study with Logan, and Charles found himself glad the other mutant hadn't been thrown out yet.

"I'll help you get her," he stated with more conviction than he had felt in years. "Not for your future, but for her."

"Fair enough."

"But I'll tell you this, you don't know Erik." Charles informed Logan. He had thought once that he knew Erik, until the moment he felt the sick and twisted pleasure Magneto felt as he shot down men in the street. Men who were simply doing their job as they fought to take down the president's killer. Charles would remember that feeling for the rest of his life and it would never fail to bring bile to his throat. It was a revolting emotion to have as you took someone's life, and it was the emotion he would forever attribute to Erik. "That man is a monster, a murderer. You think you can convince Raven to change, to come home? That's splendid. But what makes you think you can change _him_?" The vitriol dripped from his words and Charles just let the anger fester beneath his surface. He nursed the rage as he had for a decade because the fury was easier to handle than the pain.

The answer Charles got to his, actually mostly hypothetical, question was the last one he expected.

"Because you and Erik sent me back here together."

* * *

AN: This chapter got longer than I expected, and I didn't want to cut things out because I don't want it to be rushed. So, the prison break won't be starting til next chapter.


	5. This Better Be Worth It

AN: Note that I changed Peter's name to Pietro because I prefer to stick with comic canon.

* * *

"No," Charles murmured hoarsely. "You must be mistaken. Erik made his choice a long time ago and he would never have come back."

It wasn't true. Charles didn't _want_ it to be true. If it was true then it meant that all along Erik had still been capable of being convinced to change. Either that or it meant Charles would one day give up his own morals to join Erik' cause. Either scenario seemed as unlikely as it was horrifying and Charles retreated to the stairs again to sit down before his legs collapsed under him.

Logan gave him a look that bordered a little closer to pity than Charles wanted to deal with, so he opted to put his head in his hands instead of meeting the man's gaze. This was too much. He could handle the thought that Raven was still redeemable, but Erik… He had slammed that door shut so many years ago that the thought that he may have been wrong about Erik being a lost cause was nothing short of crushing.

"I'm not mistaken, Professor," Logan said in what probably counted as a gentle tone from him. "I don't know the whole story, I just know that you two had some issues and you worked them out once the world fell apart. You worked together to get me back here."

Yes, the world falling apart. Charles had nearly forgotten that was why Logan had come. It made sense that if the world was turning on mutants he had Erik would have no choice but to fight beside each other again. He wondered how badly it had hurt his future self to have to stand by the man he once loved and defend the world together. Charles supposed he would know the answer to that question soon because it seemed he was about to meet that same fate.

The ex-telepath rubbed his hand against his temple, massaging away the headache that was threatening to take over. He felt like he needed another drink. Maybe seven.

Then Hank showed up with a flourish of rolled up papers and Charles wondered when Hank had even left. "Here are the blueprints for the Pentagon. I suspect we'll need them."

Charles lifted his head and gave Hank a wide-eyed stare that very clearly broadcasted his utter confusion.

"I… uh… When they first took him, I tracked these down because I thought at some point you would go after him." Hank looked sheepish as he explained it, as if he had done something wrong. Charles merely nodded his head in understanding and dragged himself to his feet as he gestured for Hank to lay the blueprints on the table.

Hank pushed his glasses farther up his nose with his free hand and he started talking before he even reached the table. It became clear within seconds that Hank had very thoroughly kept up with Erik's location throughout the years. "The room they're holding him in was built during the second world war when there was a shortage of steel." Hank laid the prints out across the table and Charles pressed a hand on either side of them as he leaned against the surface. "So the foundation is pure concrete and sand. No metal."

Charles felt a brief surge of guilt at that. He had known of course that Erik wouldn't be allowed near metal, but he hadn't allowed himself to consciously think about it until now. He knew Erik, he knew what Erik's power meant to him. Charles was perhaps the only one who would ever understand what a nightmare it would be for Erik to be trapped somewhere that he couldn't feel any metal around him. It would be like being blinded.

Then Charles reminded himself that Erik had made his choice, he had brought the entire prison sentence on himself. Truly Erik was lucky he hadn't gotten the death penalty for what he did. Not that Charles would ever have let them get away with killing Erik, but the fact remained that they could easily have tried.

"He's being held a hundred floors beneath the most _heavily_ guarded building on the planet," Charles reminded the other two mutants.

Hank nodded along with Charles' words, but Logan spoke up with an entirely different question. "Why is he in there?"

Charles looked up from the blueprint with an almost hysterical humor in his eyes. "What, he forgot to mention?" A soft almost wheeze of a laugh came out as Charles looked to Hank with the silent request that he answer Logan's question.

Obedient as always, Hank mumbled the answer and Logan visibly straightened up in shock, "He killed-?"

Another burst of halfhearted laughter came out of Charles, interrupting Logan's words. "What else explains a bullet miraculously curving through the air?" he replied. It was more than enough proof even if Charles didn't have the memory of what Erik's mind had been like after the murder. "Erik's always had a way with guns," he tacked on bitterly as he recalled the ease with which Erik had shot down the men trying to arrest him for the assassination. Then in one last desperate bid to change Logan's mind he said, "You sure you want to carry on with this?"

"Hey, this is your plan, not mine."

That made it harder of course. Charles couldn't exactly argue with his future self no matter how badly he wanted to. Logan seemed convinced that Erik was necessary for their mission so it seemed that despite his instinct to just leave him in prison, Charles would be rescuing the man he once loved. The past tense of that phrase would be crucial to remember in the coming days.

"We don't have any resources to get us in," Hank commented, ever the voice of reason.

"Or out," Charles hastily added. "It's just me and Hank."

Sure they had plenty of money, Charles had never been short on money, but without the manpower an operation like this would only get them all put in prison. Charles was willing to get Erik out, but he certainly wasn't willing to go to jail himself for the effort.

Logan seemed undeterred, "I know a guy." He looked Charles in the eye as if willing him to have a little faith in this venture. "He'd be a young man now, grew up outside of DC." Logan started chuckling to himself, shaking his head in a private joke that he didn't feel a need to share with the other two. "He could get into anywhere; I just don't know how the hell we're going to find him."

Charles knew the question was coming before Hank even opened his mouth, so when Cerebro was mentioned all the ex-telepath did was shoot Hank a look that made it quite obvious he was ridiculous for even suggesting the idea. So, a telephone book it was.

Hank dragged it out, blowing off the dust that had accumulated over years of being ignored. It wasn't hard to find the right address, and Charles was mildly annoyed at how easy it was. Finding this young man would make it nearly impossible to get out of the insane rescue-Erik plan that seemed to be spiraling ever closer.

Pietro Maximoff was the kid's name. Logan refused to share much else, he just snickered whenever Charles demanded to know how a teenager was going to get Erik out of the Pentagon.

With a name and an address, Charles called for a rental car and they headed for DC. Charles insisted on driving, he wanted at least _one_ fun thing to come out of his day. He loved being able to drive, loved being able to feel his feet on the pedals as he maneuvered a hunk of metal at 60 miles an hour. It was something he missed when he was paralyzed and the joy of being able to drive again with the serum had never quite left.

He just so rarely had anywhere to go. Charles couldn't remember the last time he had left the house.

The trip was a short one, a few hours sitting in mostly silence. Logan seemed content to sleep off whatever journey he had been on and Hank understood that Charles was understandably a little put out by the situation so he didn't try to engage him in conversation. It was a blessing and a curse because now all Charles had to think about was that he would soon be face to face with the man who betrayed him and he simply was not ready for that.

The car pulled up in front of a modest looking house and Logan grumbled something about it being his turn to drive next time. Charles ignored it as they all piled out onto the street and headed up the path to the porch.

It occurred to him that they had no actual reason to talk to this boy. Perhaps a cover story should have been concocted on the drive over. When the door opened it proved unnecessary as the woman staring at them with exasperation provided their story for them. The fact that she assumed her son had stolen something was only _slightly_ concerning to Charles. After all, they were here to request that he steal a person from the government, so he supposed it was good if he was already known for stealing.

Charles didn't know what he had been expecting, but walking down into the basement to find a young man seemingly playing Ping-Pong against himself was definitely not it.

The words, "What do you guys want?" flew past his ears so quickly Charles hardly even registered them before the mutant was speaking again. "I didn't do anything. I've been here all day."

Charles' eyes widened in surprise and he stumbled backwards a step when the teenager appeared lounging on the couch behind him.

"Just relax, Pietro," Logan requested as he approached the man. "We're not cops."

The look of utter indifference etched across Pietro's face didn't change at all as he laced his fingers together behind his head in the picture of relaxation. "Of course you're not cops," he replied. He spoke quickly but the words still somehow came out with an air of lazy apathy. "If you were cops you wouldn't be driving a rental car."

"How'd you know we've got a rental ca-"

"I checked your registration when you were walking to the door," Pietro interrupted Charles. "I also had some time to kill so I went through your rental agreement, saw you're from out of town. Are you FBI?" A gust of wind blew Charles' shirt back and suddenly Pietro was standing behind him holding his wallet. Charles was starting to understand how this kid had gotten a reputation for stealing. "Nope, not cops. Hey what's with this gifted youngsters place?"

Charles ignored the slight sting the reminder of his school brought as he answered in exasperation, "That's an old card." He quickly swiped back the wallet and the business card Pietro had dropped and shoved them both back into his pocket.

"He's fascinating!" Hank exclaimed with a smile as he looked at where the young mutant had stood mere seconds ago.

"He's a pain in the ass," Charles corrected.

Hank ignored him and turned to Logan instead trying to find out what exactly their new potential-ally was. "A teleporter?"

That word sent another shock of pain through Charles as he remembered Azazel taking Erik away that last day. That puff of red smoke that the person he loved had disappeared into. The last lingering words of love that Charles had ever heard from the man.

"No," Logan stated and Charles wanted to kiss him for pulling him out of that train of thought. "He's just fast. And when I knew him he wasn't so… young"

Charles got the distinct impression Logan had been trying to find a polite way to say immature.

"Young? You're just old." Pietro appeared behind them again with a mostly eaten popsicle in his hands. One Charles was certain he hadn't had two seconds ago. Despite his claim that the kid was a pain in the ass, he had to admit he was also rather remarkable. Somewhere deep in his chest he felt the stirrings of that old curiosity that had always taken over in the face of new mutations.

Hank meanwhile seemed fascinated for a different reason, "You're not afraid to show your powers?"

There was a twinge of guilt again at that as Charles was reminded that he probably should have at least attempted to help Hank come to terms with his own powers instead of hiding them the same way Charles hid his. Once he would have thought it his responsibility to help the younger mutant. He wondered dully when he had given up on even that simple task.

In typical teenager fashion, Pietro answered with sarcasm, "Powers? What powers? What are you talking about? Do you see something strange here? Nothing anyone would believe if you told them." The kid talked the same way he moved, far too fast. Before Charles even finished processing the new flow of words Pietro was on the other side of the room again playing a video game and demanding to know who they were and what they wanted.

"We need your help, Pietro," Logan answered. He seemed far less annoyed than Charles and he suspected it had to do with the fact that Logan had prior experience with this particular brand of hyperactivity. "To break into a highly secured facility. To get someone out."

"Prison break?" the teen answered, sounding a little too excited. "That's illegal you know." Something about the décor of the room told Charles legality wasn't really an issue for the kid. Maybe it was the traffic light leaned against the wall or the stack of junk food far too high to be anything someone would have purchased. "So what's in it for me."

Charles felt he should be contributing to the discussion so as he pulled his sunglasses off to rub his temple he finally spoke up. "You, you kleptomaniac, get to break into the Pentagon."

From there it was an easy sell, the kid seemed eager to try his skills on a bigger heist and after a brief demonstration of Logan's claws – to prove they were fellow mutants and could be trusted – Pietro was all smiles and over-exuberant plans. The three of them left the house with a brief goodbye to Pietro's mom, piling back into the car and finding Pietro already inside with his feet kicked up on the dashboard glancing through the blueprints that had been stored in the trunk.

He was forced to admit, the kid was good. His mind worked just as fast as the rest of him and in the short time it took them to get into DC Pietro was already filling them all in on the plan. It took a few stops along the way, but soon they were parking outside the Pentagon ready to break Erik Lehnsherr out of prison. Charles took a deep breath and focused on the plan instead of on what the plan was about to result in.

They mingled into a tour group, Charles pulling uncomfortably at the suit Pietro had insisted he put on. There had been a reason for it, "Making him look like an authority figure instead of a hobo," but Charles wasn't happy to be wearing it. Hank was fiddling with the device he had thrown together with parts from the electronics store they stopped at and Logan was just smirking in amusement at their evident distress.

Charles tried not to be annoyed that he was the only one who had been told he needed to change. Hank had donned a new outfit too, but he had done it of his own free will because he wanted to truly play the part of a tourist.

One moment Pietro was in the tour group with them and the next he was gone. Charles squeezed his eyes shut and counted to three as he drew in another deep breath. This was it. There would be no turning back now that the kid was on his way to Erik. They had to trust that Pietro would meet them at the elevator as planned.

Logan and Charles veered off when they came to the stairs Pietro had pointed them towards on the blue prints. Hank gave them one last glance and Charles knew that soon Hank would be fiddling with his device and, hopefully, keeping the security videos from showing the break-out.

Visitor badges from the tour were swiftly thrown away and they made their way further into the depths of the Pentagon. Charles winced when it occurred to him that if he had his telepathy he would have felt Erik's mind growing closer and closer. It wasn't a thought he needed to deal with right now. Being inside Erik's mind was the last thing Charles wanted anymore.

They came to the bottom of the stairs and Charles felt his heart pounding in his chest as they turned down a corridor and continued moving towards the elevator. He didn't know if it was the nerves of breaking the law or the thought of Erik that had him so on edge but he didn't care to dissect the emotion enough to figure it out.

A brief glance at his watch told Charles that Hank should have triggered the sprinklers in the kitchen by now and, assuming the kid was on schedule, Erik would be out of his cell and on his way to the elevator.

God he wasn't prepared for this. Charles reminded himself it was too late to change his mind and with that thought he pushed into the kitchen with Logan right behind him. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls," he shouted through the already panicked room being doused in water, "This is a code red situation. We are evacuating the entire floor so that we, my uh… associate and I, can secure the premises."

It wasn't hard to tell that he had lost his believability somewhere along that stream of words. Charles had never been a liar, and the few times he did had been at a point where he could use his telepathy to make the lie seem real. Now, he felt more than a little out of his element and that lack of confidence was clearly showing.

The guards stepped away from the elevator on the opposite side of the room and approached the two mutants with dubious looks on their faces as one demanded, "Who are you?"

Charles was glad to see the kitchen staff had vacated the room, but the guards were the main problem from the beginning and as he looked at Logan he kept talking, even knowing that they didn't believe him in the slightest. "We are… special operations CBFECI…E. Look, perhaps you didn't hear me when first I spoke but it is imperative that you understand we are in a complete lockdown situation." This entire speech was a train wreck and nothing made Charles happier than seeing Logan take control of the situation even if it was done with more violence than he would have preferred. Charles took a quick step back, his hands held up in a useless gesture of peace even as Logan snatched a pan and knocked the two men out.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Logan stated with a sarcastic tone. "Were you finished?"

No answer came to mind, so Charles just stared for a moment at the two unconscious men and then with a quick shake of his head he retrieved the key from one of the guards and headed towards the elevator. The unassuming metal doors that were, in theory, about to open and reveal a man Charles never thought he would see again.

"Sorry," he finally told Logan after he had put the key in to allow the elevator to open. "I'm just... not very good with violence."

The elevator dinged behind him and Charles turned as the metal doors slid open.

* * *

AN: Hahaha, cliffhanger!

Sorry this chapter didn't have much added to it, I stuck pretty close to the movie. Next chapter, the prison break from Erik's point of view and then the reunion which is where I'll start really changing things up from the movie.


	6. Probably Just a Hallucination

AN: Felt bad leaving you with a cliffhanger. Have some Erik Angst.

* * *

If his count was right, Erik had been down in solitary confinement for nearly six months. Granted there was no sunrise to judge the passage of time with, so all he had to go on was the assumption that three meals were delivered each day. It had been nearly two months after he was shoved in here that Erik finally stopped expecting them to drag him back out and carve into him again. Another month after that and he started wishing they would do exactly that.

It would at least be something to break the silence of white walls glaring back at him from every angle. Erik hadn't had human contact in six months, hadn't touched metal in just as long, and the only company he had was his own memories which did little but torment him worse than the physical pain ever had.

Somewhere around the fifth month Erik had finally allowed himself to shatter the wall in his mind. He had very little hope that Charles would still be waiting for him on the other side, but he couldn't help trying. After all, he put the wall up to prevent Charles from feeling his pain, now that the experiments had stopped Erik could let Charles back in.

Of course, that only worked if the telepath wanted back inside. The resounding silence made it evident that he did not.

It wasn't exactly a surprise. After almost ten years of forced silence it would have been ridiculous to expect Charles to still be waiting eagerly for him to open back up. The fact that he expected it did little to dull the pain and Erik spent the next two days with his head in his hands as he finally allowed himself to grieve for the loss of his lover.

Throughout the six months, most his free time was spent trying to recover physically from the damage that had been caused. New scars pockmarked his body, blending in with the familiar ones left decades ago by Shaw. There was little to do in solitary so slowly Erik built his muscle mass back to where it had been before the years of abuse had chipped away at it. He felt old, bones as weary as his mind, but he pushed himself because he had to. It was the only thing keeping him sane.

Or at least he thought he was still sane.

Then again, sane people generally didn't imagine strange teenagers grinning down at them.

It had to be a hallucination. There wasn't any other possibility after all. If someone was going to save him it wouldn't have taken ten years. Not to mention the hallucination was definitely not someone Erik knew, so they would have no reason to be breaking him out.

It crossed his mind that perhaps this was a new form of psychological torment from his captors. It was really only a matter of time before they started actively trying to break his mind apart.

The note was a nice touch. Slipped into the food to get his attention, and likely meant to get his hopes up too. The months alone had him questioning everything as he stared up through the glass.

Was the teenager really there and merely being used as a prop to torment him with the allure of freedom?

Was the note real but the stranger was a figment of his imagination dreamed up by a mind made more suggestible through isolation from others?

Or was even the note fake? All of it just a fantasy conjured when his head couldn't handle reality anymore?

Then, the grin never dying on his face, the teenager shattered both the glass and every doubt Erik had that this was happening. He ducked on instinct, suddenly wishing he had heeded the note instead of standing around doubting its existence. Shards of glass rained down around him, biting pinpricks against his skin but falling away before they did any real damage.

Erik stood in the chaos for a moment, stunned as he processed the fact that this was actually happening. He wasn't just seeing things, his imagination was certainly not good enough to fake the feeling of glass cascading through the air and cracking upon the ground at his feet.

The distant sound of alarms effectively stole his hope away before he had even registered that it existed, but Erik still couldn't help the desire to be free of those same white walls even for a few minutes. He gripped the edge where the glass panel had once been and hauled himself up, grateful at last for the months of work that had given him back his strength.

As he straightened, Erik realized that this may very well be a rescue of an entirely different kind. Not one that would result in him being free for a few seconds and then caged again, but one that would result in a more permanent freedom. The kind that would be found with the firing of a gun. At this point, Erik found he really wouldn't care.

It seemed fair to warn his would-be-rescuer though, so Erik gestured to the door as he said, "In three seconds those doors are going to open and twenty guards will be here to shoot us." He glanced back at the kid as he finished, noticing for the first time the guards uniform he was wearing. That seemed to imply a more carefully thought out plan than Erik would have expected.

There was that annoying flicker of hope again. Erik had thought he crushed that years ago.

"I know, that's what I'm waiting for," the voice came from right beside his ear and a hand braced against the back of his neck without warning. Erik had to force himself not to retaliate instinctively against the touch. He would have sworn the teenager was on the other side of the room, yet now he stood beside Erik as if he had been that close all along. It was the first physical contact he had felt in months and the first touch that wasn't intended to hurt in years. Erik resisted the urge to lean into the gesture.

Instead he decided to assuage his curiosity about why exactly the kid had a hand plastered against his neck. "What are you doing?"

"I'm holding you neck so you don't get whiplash." Erik wondered if the kid always talked that fast. When he asked for clarification though, it was more out of confusion at the words themselves not because they had been spoken too quickly. The teenager responded with a stunningly sarcastic, "Whiiiiplaaaaaash."

If he wasn't still so lost about what exactly was going on, Erik would probably have been more annoyed at the boy's manner.

There was no time for that as the door slid open in front of them and Erik braced himself for the impact of bullets.

What he got was the wind knocked out of him as he found himself wavering on his feet inside the elevator. Nausea threatened to sweep up his throat and Erik blinked a few times as he waited for the dizziness to abate. Between one blink and the next the teenager abandoned his guard uniform and donned an outfit that Erik thought had far too much silver.

A mutant.

Erik would have smiled at the knowledge if he wasn't so busy trying to stop himself from emptying his stomach on the floor. He had to be a mutant, there was no other explanation for the speed at which the boy moved.

Erik pressed his hand against the wall for support, still reeling with the after effects of whatever the hell had just happened. He supposed all that mattered was the noticeable upward movement of the elevator. He took a deep breath, letting the air calm his nerves and soothe his shaky body.

"You're good," the teenager assured him. "It'll pass. It happens with everyone." He was speaking slower now, his tone almost apologetic which made Erik realize how pathetic he probably looked. Then the mutant continued talking and soon Erik was regretting the moment when he had actively fought the urge to attack the kid for touching him unexpectedly. "Must have done something pretty serious. What'd you do, man? What'd you do? What'd you dooo? Why'd they have you in there."

For no other reason than to shut him up, Erik fought past the nausea long enough to say, "For killing the president." He took another few deep breaths, shaking his head to try to clear the fog away. "The only thing I'm guilty of," he added with a sudden desire to defend himself, "is fighting for people like us."

The kid grabbed onto the topic of fighting and ran with it, "You take karate? You know karate?"

"I don't know karate," Erik replied with something that he would almost call a laugh. He wasn't sure anymore, it had been too long since he laughed. "But I know crazy."

The silver-clad teenager was definitely crazy. Why else was he breaking a prisoner out of a highly secured prison? They didn't know each other, there was no reason for this break out to even be occurring.

"That sucks. Karate would be cool to know. I should learn karate. I've been meaning to. Do you think karate would be easy to learn? You should take karate too. Not with me. You kind of freak me out. But if you want to fight people you should learn karate."

At this point, Erik wasn't certain if his mind was spinning because of the speed that he had traveled at, or because of the speed the kid was talking at.

"I mean, I guess you probably know how to fight a different way. You killed the president so you must know how to fight. Am I in danger? Probably not. I don't think people usually kill their rescuers. If you did though it would probably be with metal, right? They told me you control metal."

Erik finally interrupted the flow of words as he latched on to that last sentence. "They?"

So it wasn't just this kid on his own. That probably made sense. Who else would want him out of prison though? It couldn't be Charles because if Charles had forgiven him then Erik would feel him in his mind. Hank, Alex, Sean, Raven… None of them seemed likely to be here. If they were going to mount a rescue it would have been a lot sooner. Though to be fair Erik had no idea what any of them had been up to the last decade so he supposed that something may have changed to make them decide now was the time to get him out.

The teenager didn't expand on who he meant, instead he chuckled under his breath and shocked Erik to the core with the words, "You know, my mom once knew a guy who could do that."

No.

That couldn't be possible. As far as he knew, no one else had power over metal the way that he did. And Erik could think of very few people he had ever slept with who knew about his power. Only one of whom was capable of getting pregnant.

Magda.

Magda who had left him years ago. About 17 years ago to be precise which coincidentally looked to be about the right age for the young mutant.

Erik filed the building anxiety attack away for later. Right now getting out of the Pentagon was far more important. The elevator let out a bright sound and the doors slid open to reveal the last person Erik had expected.

"Charles?"

A thousand emotions surged into his mind at once, completely drowning out any lingering concern over the parentage of the kid behind him. Why was Charles here? Why was Charles standing? Hope, love, confusion, worry, loss, love, frustration, desire, concern, love.

Then the whirlwind of thought came to a stuttering halt as Charles' face morphed into anger and a fist connected solidly with Erik's jaw. He went sprawling to the floor, a hand already rising to press against the stinging of his cheek.

Erik's body was reacting to the hit, but his mind was automatically concerned for Charles as the man stumbled into the wall with the force of the hit. He wanted to grab Charles hand and kiss the knuckles that were likely bruised and he wanted to pull the man down onto the floor with him and just wrap his arms around Charles for the sake of feeling him there.

Given the way Charles still appeared to be completely livid, Erik decided it was best not to do any of those things. He softly said, "It's good to see you too, Liebling. And walking."

"You don't get to call me that," Charles ground out, fury still sparkling in the depths of his eyes as he watched Erik get back onto his feet. "You lost that right years ago."

Voice still soft, Erik replied, "I didn't expect it would be you coming to get me. Not after all this time."

"Believe me," the vitriol in Charles' voice dug into Erik's heart and ripped at it until it was raw and bleeding, "I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to." There was a pause as Charles seemed to swallow back some emotion that Erik couldn't quite read.

That hurt more than anything. Seeing that the man in front of him was so unfamiliar to him that Erik couldn't read his expressions with ease as he once had. Being in Charles' presence again after so long, but not touching him, not connecting with him as their minds intertwined in the way that made Erik feel whole. To stand in front of the man he loved with every fiber of his being, the man that every nerve cried out for and every thought craved, and to be told that man didn't want him to be saved.

"If we get you out of here, we do it _my _way," Charles commanded. "No killing."

Erik tried to cover the pain that was tearing through him with a casual gesture to his head and a light tone as he pointed out, "There's no wall anymore, I couldn't disobey you even if I wanted to."

He hadn't expected the reaction he got. He certainly wasn't prepared for the gaping wound it caused inside his chest as Charles leaned closer and hissed out, "I am _never_ getting inside of that head again. The things I saw in there the last time have more than convinced me never to venture into your mind."

Charles probably didn't care, but those words were worse than anything that had ever been done to Erik. By Shaw, by the US government, by scientists and researchers and Nazi's. The cruelest torment of them all was knowing that Charles finally saw him as the monster he had always thought himself to be.

"I need your word, Erik."

He could feel Charles' breath ghosting across his lips, the man's body heat radiating from their close proximity, but all Erik felt was cold.

No words would come out so all the metal bender could offer was a small nod. No killing. He could agree to that. If he focused on making an agreement he could ignore the chasm dragging him down into the depths of an agony he had never felt before.

The doors burst open on the other side of the room and Erik knew they had lingered too long. Guards flooded in, armed with their plastic guns and the German had the sudden realization that their guns didn't matter. He was surrounded by metal. A flicker of surprise passed through him at the thought that he had been so consumed with Charles that he hadn't even noticed the metal virtually singing out to him.

Within moments of the threat appearing, Erik and Charles had both instinctively moved to stand beside each other. A shallow mockery of the way they had once fought side by side against their enemies. Now as the men grew closer Erik waited for the telepath to make his move. They had always worked in tandem, knowing each other's steps long before they were taken, and now seemed no different. Erik knew that freezing the guards was the best way to get out of here without anyone getting hurt and so that had to be the plan.

The guards were still moving though and Erik wondered if he had also lost the ability to predict Charles' moves. What else had he lost in their time apart? Were they strangers now?

"Charles," the name came out hesitant but with an edge of warning to it. They were running out of time. "Charles, freeze them."

"I can't."

An unexpected, and broken sounding, phrase. There were a lot of unexpected things happening to him today and Erik was nearing his breaking point. A dread started to build up as Erik ran the words over in his head again and again.

Tentatively, terrified of what he would find, Erik latched on to that thin string connecting his mind to Charles. It had lasted all these years, a permanent bond they probably couldn't break even if they wanted to, but as Erik reached out he met nothing.

It wasn't the sensation of hitting a wall that he expected, it was a complete lack of Charles. The connection led to nowhere and even as Erik shouted in his mind he knew that Charles wouldn't hear it.

Couldn't hear it.

At least a part of his ability to read Charles must have still existed, because with just two words the telepath had told Erik that his powers were gone.

Guards were still drawing closer, and there was nothing Charles could do to stop them.

Mere moments after making the promise not to kill, Erik was already well on his way to considering breaking it. If it came to Charles' life versus a guard he knew who he would choose. He twitched his fingers, lifting metal into the air and feeling it tremble with his power.

"Erik, no!"

A hand was pressed against his chest in warning and the action was hardly completed before bullets were flying right past them and impacting against the elevator as he and Charles both stumbled backwards.

Erik stared around the room in shock at the guards all splayed out on the ground and then he glanced across at the teenager who was flashing them a cocky grin from the opposite side of the room.

It wasn't until Charles angrily pulled away from Erik that the metal bender even realized that he had wrapped his arms protectively around the telepath. The warmth of the body against him was already fading as he stared after the retreating form.

* * *

AN: Next chapter is going to be largely scenes that aren't in the movie at all. And of course, because I am the one writing them, they will be filled with angst.


	7. Not the Best of Days

AN: These two. I swear to God they need to learn to stop breaking my heart. They're both so messed up right now.

* * *

Erik remained frozen for a moment, feeling more lost now than he had in ten long years at the mercy of the government. Reality finally slithered back into his mind when he caught a flash of movement to his right. The tall, gruff looking man, who Erik had hardly paid attention to at all, was retracting claws back into his hands.

Claws.

Erik blinked in surprise and decided that he really needed to stop letting every little thing shock him today. It wasn't like this was the first physical mutation he had seen. Not to mention, the cocky grin the man was shooting him seemed annoying at best. Erik leveled his best unimpressed stare as he looked the man up and down, giving his clothes a unimpressed look, and asked, "Is this what's considered fashion now? The world really has gone downhill in ten years."

The man let out what could nearly be termed a growl as Erik smirked and strolled after the other two. His heart felt like it was being slowly yanked out and stepped on, but he was perfectly capable of pretending that he was unaffected by Charles' rejection. He was less capable of handling the concept that this strange silver haired mutant might be his son.

Their small party stopped at the bottom of a set of stairs, waiting for the gruff man to catch up.

Charles barely even looked at him but the kid was staring openly with curiosity. He was shifting back and forth on his feet, as if standing still for even a moment was beyond his abilities, and Erik got a good look at him for the first time. He could see Magda's smile, her nose, even the way she carried herself.

And he could see his own eyes.

Those eyes stared back at him without even a hint of recognition and Erik decided then and there that he would never reveal his connection to the kid. An escaped convict wasn't exactly the kind of image a kid wanted for a father. It was better just to let him live his life as if nothing had changed. Because, for him it hadn't.

Charles spoke up as the tall man approached, "Pietro, could you- Ah, thanks." Before Charles had even finished speaking the silver haired mutant had vanished briefly and returned with a slight gust of wind and a bundle of clothes. "Now, Logan, if you would keep an eye out here for us that would be splendid. Erik, you'll be much less conspicuous walking out in some more suitable clothes."

A slight gesture was made towards a door and Erik took the hint. He unlocked it with a wave of his hand and revealed a large office. Without hesitation, he took the proffered clothes from his son – which was a thought he still hadn't adapted to – and stepped through the door, surprised to find Charles following right after him.

"Is there a reason you need to be in here?"

Charles finally actually looked at him, anger blazing in his blue eyes as he spat out, "If you think I'm letting you out of my sight for even an instant-" Charles cut himself off. He seemed to force himself to calm down as he dropped the volume of his voice "No, Erik. I am not giving you the opportunity to escape."

Erik raised an eyebrow, "Isn't escape the point of this entire event?"

A weary look crossed the younger man's features and he brought a hand up to rub against his temple, "Yes, Erik. We're getting you out of the government's hands, but that doesn't mean I'll let you traipse of on your own to cause God knows what damage."

This shouldn't be an issue. Erik should be able to just change quickly without caring that Charles was standing right there glaring at him. Except, Erik could distinctly feel the tight pull of scar tissue underneath his clothes and he couldn't bear the thought of revealing them to this man.

"Leave," he stated. Brusque and succinct.

"For God's sake, Erik," Charles snapped, "It's not like it's anything I haven't seen before!" They both froze as the words came out, a glaring reminder of their past. An almost apologetic look danced through Charles' eyes and then he added quietly, "I'll turn around if it will make you feel better."

A brief nod from Erik had Charles sighing and pivoting to face the door so the metal bender could have some illusion of privacy. Erik kept his eyes on Charles the entire time, making certain that he didn't try to turn around, and he peeled off the prison uniform with no small amount of pleasure. The feel of real clothes against his skin was nothing short of heavenly and he could overlook the fact that the outfit looked rather hideous.

When he was done, Erik stood for a few seconds just staring at Charles' back. He took in the tense set of the man's shoulders, the clench of his fists and the way his head was bowed ever so slightly forward. The brief flush of joy that Erik felt when he realized he still recognized the body language Charles gave off was quickly ruined when he remembered exactly what that language was saying.

Charles was hurting, conflicted and angrier than Erik had ever seen him. This was a man who wanted nothing more than to be on the other side of the country just to avoid having to be in the room with Erik. Yet here he was.

"Why save me, Charles? After all this time…"

The younger man flinched at the words and Erik could picture the lines that likely furrowed his brow. "I would prefer you be left to rot in there forever," Charles finally hissed out into the silence. He took a deep breath, lifting his head and squaring his shoulders before turning to face Erik. "Logan, the one who looks like he could snap you in two, showed up at the house and informed me that the fate of the world quite literally hinged on working with you to stop Raven."

Erik mulled the words over, he thought briefly to question the veracity of Logan's claim – because how could Logan possibly know any of that – but if Charles believed him then Erik would too. So he focused on the other piece of information he had been granted. "Stop Raven? Stop her from what?"

Charles' eyes shifted away from Erik and towards the ground as his posture slumped inward. "Murder," he whispered. "She's going to kill a man and get captured in the process. Her genetic code gives them the key to destroying our kind."

Erik wanted to reach out and wipe away the sadness on Charles' face, but the betrayal was just as strong on the telepath's features and the gesture would likely not be appreciated. "Why would you need me?" he asked instead. "Raven has always listened more to you, and I'm sure that after ten years together she is far more likely to pay attention to your words than mine."

"Ten years?" Charles scoffed. "Erik, Raven left me only days after you were arrested. She took half the others with her and went off to continue the war you tried so stupidly to start."

She left. Raven left. Erik felt an inexplicable surge of anger at the woman for leaving her brother right after Erik himself had left. It was irrational, but he felt it all the same. All this time he had assumed Raven had helped Charles pick the pieces back up, and instead she had left him practically in the same heartbeat that Erik had.

No wonder Charles hated him now.

"I'm sorry," he murmured as he stepped closer to Charles.

The younger man snapped his fiery blue gaze back to Erik and his voice dripped with vitriol as he said back, "I don't want pity from you."

Then he was turning on his heel and stalking from the room and Erik had nothing to do but follow after him wondering how their idyllic life had turned to this. They traipsed up the stairs, mingling easily with the nearest tour group and then easing their way out of the building without any hassle. A grumpy looking Hank – who was looking far less blue, but Erik wasn't going to even bother questioning that – sat waiting for them in an unfamiliar car and Erik was sent yet another glare.

He hadn't stopped even once to think about what his leaving would do to the rest of the family they had built. Charles wasn't the only one he had left behind and he wondered what had happened to the rest of them when half of their stable leadership had walked out on them.

Not for the first time, he cursed his own stupidity in trying to save the president.

Awkward silence and a tense atmosphere filled the car as Hank drove them all away from the Pentagon. The only one seemingly unaffected was Pietro who prattled on to Charles about whatever seemed to strike his fancy.

"This was all very exciting. I'd never even been in the Pentagon before. I think after that I can safely say I could break into anywhere. Where should I try next? Oh, that's right, you don't really approve of stealing. Sorry. I won't do it again. I mean, I will, but I won't tell you. Which makes sense because I suspect I won't ever hear from you again. That's how this works right? I never tell anyone what we did here today and you let me live? You are going to let me live right? Of course you are. You don't seem the type to kill people. Then again your friends here all seem rather capable of murder. One of them even already did it."

The constant stream of words flowed through Erik's mind and he just leaned back and shut his eyes as he tried to wrap his mind around everything that had happened.

Free air should taste sweeter than this. Charles' face, his voice, his touch, they should all have been a comfort and a balm to ease the pain of a decade. Removing the starched white clothes should have been a longer lasting joy, but even that had faded away.

None of this was right.

He would almost rather be back in that God-forsaken cell. Almost.

No matter how hard he tried to fight it, he could also feel anger building up again. Anger at himself for ever getting arrested, anger at Charles for never even trying to get him to safety, at Raven for leaving, at the entire fucked up situation he found himself in, at humans for everything they had done, and at Charles for always being so blissfully blind to it all. Yes, there was a surprising amount of anger at Charles now that he let himself think about it.

His hands flexed as he forced himself not to crumple the car's engine with his emotions. It had been a long time since he had to concern himself with how his feelings affected his gifts.

The vehicle pulled to a stop after nearly half an hour of constant babble from Pietro and stony silence from everyone else. Erik would have quite literally jumped out of the car if he didn't still have some semblance of pride. As it was, he beat a hasty retreat from the stifling atmosphere and headed straight up into the plane without sparing a second thought to the other occupants of the car.

Logan followed soon after, seemingly just as eager to leave the tension behind. There was a brief moment where Erik thought perhaps he could get along with this stranger – the one person in their party that Erik hadn't personally wronged – but that hope was soon dashed. Logan glared at him almost as fiercely as Charles and he wondered what exactly this man's knowledge of him was.

He tried to decide where to sit, pondering the thought of situating himself across from Logan and picking his brain for information. As he walked closer though, and reached curiously to grab at a newspaper article, Logan's claws slid back out and the glower grew even more intense. It was a clear message to back off and Erik decided he didn't feel like dealing with a fight right now.

Instead he continued walking until he reached the couch, sitting down on it heavily and reveling in the feel of a real cushion. He didn't look Logan's way, but he still had questions he wanted answered so before Charles and Hank could make their way onto the plane he spoke up again, "So, where did they dig you up?"

The inquiry softened the edges of Logan's glare and he leaned forward a little as he replied, "You're going to find this hard to believe but… you sent me. You and Charles." The way he added the last sentence made Erik freeze. The words themselves were shocking enough but Logan's tone was filled with the implication that he knew exactly what Charles and Erik were to each other. Erik turned to look at him as Logan added, "From the future."

He reminded himself that he had resolved to stop letting things surprise him today. Time travel wasn't really _that_ far-fetched compared to some of the other things Erik had seen. Then again… "You must be mistaken. It might have escaped your attention, but Charles and I are not on the best of terms. Any future you come from would certainly not have found us working together. You may recall you had to force him to work with me even when the world is at stake."

Logan chuckled, "It took a lot more years, I'll grant you that, but in the end you two were on the same side again. It was Mystique who broke you out I believe, the government had you about twenty years. Neither one of you were too fond of humanity at that point and you were adamant that a war was coming. In the end your war did come and Charles was at your side to fight it."

Erik stared a few moments more, letting the words sink in along with the hope that maybe they could still salvage something of what they once were. Then Hank was walking through the door and turning to the cockpit and Charles entered right after and headed down the aisle towards the armchair on the other side of Erik. Neither of them spoke and Logan merely lifted his newspaper up and ignored them both.

The silence permeated the small area as the plane started moving and lifted off with a bit of gentle steadying from Erik. Not enough that Hank would have noticed, but enough to make the start a little smoother. Charles shot him a look and Erik knew that the man was well aware what he had done. He seemed unwilling to break the quiet though, so no comment was made.

He could feel Charles' eyes on him, not quite a glare and not quite anything else. If he had to put a word to the emotion he could practically feel bleeding off Charles it would be confusion. A complete uncertainty about what they were supposed to do from here, how they were supposed to act around each other. Erik felt it too, he floundered to put a name to what they even were at the moment. Allies? Enemies? Ex-lovers? Or were they nothing at all to each other, just a blank spot filled with the echoes of something that was once great?

He knew that he was torn between wanting to curl his body around Charles without ever letting go and wanting to punch him just as he had been punched earlier. Erik imagined Charles had a similar dilemma. Both holding themselves awkwardly back because neither had any idea where the lines were between them right now.

His thoughts were taking him a direction he didn't want to go, so Erik conceded to break the silence himself. "How did you lose them?" he asked. No clarification was needed, Charles would know. Erik was afraid at first that he wouldn't even get an answer.

"The treatment for my spine affects my DNA."

Erik's brows drew together as he took in the words. A simple sentence that made so little sense. In the year they had spent together, blissfully happy, Charles had seemed to adjust to life in his wheelchair. The concept that he would have relinquished his telepathy for the use of his legs didn't fit with the man he had known.

Then again this wasn't the man he had known.

"You sacrificed your powers so you could walk?" he had to clarify. Erik desperately hoped that the answer he would get would deny the words.

He got what he wanted in a way. Though the response was actually far more heart breaking.

"I sacrificed them so I could slee-" The younger man's voice broke and he tore his eyes away from Erik's. It was far too late for that though, Erik was more than smart enough to finish the word. He wondered what had stolen Charles' ability to sleep. A thousand possibilities came to mind but each was just harder to accept than the one before it. Charles kept his gaze averted but he spoke up again in a stronger voice, "What do you know about it?"

The words themselves weren't entirely bad, but the tone they were spoken in irritated Erik instantly. Dismissive and uncaring, without even the slightest thought that perhaps he hadn't been the only one suffering all these years. Erik had countless scars that proved that false. His own voice darkened as he allowed the anger to lash out at Charles for the first time, "I know plenty. I paid dearly for my decisions."

Charles chuckled bitterly, "Dry your eyes, Erik. It doesn't justify what you've done."

"You have no idea what I've done." He knew it was unreasonable to get angry over Charles' dismissal of the ten years spent in the greedy hands of scientists, because of course Charles didn't know about the truth of his imprisonment, but the pain was still far too fresh for Erik to think clearly. The constant knowledge that he had been arrested for something he didn't do, that he was being told he had deserved the pain even when he knew he hadn't, it was too much for him and the anger came whether he liked it or not.

Charles wasn't willing to back down either and he argued back just as vehemently, "I know you took the things that meant the most to me."

"Well maybe," Erik snarled back, "you should have fought harder for them."

Fought harder for _me_ he wanted to say. Fought harder for Raven when she left. Fought harder for the rest of them. Fought to keep you powers. Fought to find the truth of the president's assassination. Fought for the rest of mutant-kind instead of finding a way to be human. None of the words Erik really wanted to say would come out though.

Still, the words he had spoken were enough. Shock and fury warred in Charles' eyes and then he was pushing up out of his seat yelling, "If you want a fight, Erik, I will _give you_ a fight!"

Erik stood too, ignoring Logan's annoyed voice telling them to sit back down. He held a hand out, motioning for the gruff man to stay out of this. Erik fought to stay calm and in control even as Charles reached out and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. The younger man pulled him closer and yelled in a voice that was not quite steady, "You abandoned me! You took her away and you abandoned me! How was I supposed to keep fighting without you?"

"You abandoned us all!" Erik yelled back as he felt the thin cord of control snap. He dimly noticed the lights flickering and the plane tilting as his power reached out and warped it with vicious ease. "You left me in prison without a second thought; Raven left of her own free will and the others followed her because you refused to fight!" The entire aircraft was plummeting now and Erik struggled to regain control of his fluctuating power as he watched Charles fall back against the couch with the force of gravity. "Where were you, Charles? Where were you when your own people needed you? Did you think even once about the mutants being held captive? Experimented on? Torn apart for science? We were supposed to protect them, rescue them, and instead you turned your back on us all! You hid! You and Hank, pretending to be something you're not!"

A desperate shout of his name came from Hank in the cockpit and Erik finally let the burning rage cool to a simmer as he forced the plane back into shape and pulled it from its fall. As the craft leveled he repeated much quieter but with equal venom, "You abandoned us all."

Charles looked at him with a mixture of shock, hurt, and disgust but he didn't speak. He merely pushed himself back to a standing positon and retreated to the cockpit with Hank leaving Erik to curse himself for letting his rage control him. So much had happened today, he felt overloaded and raw with emotions he hadn't felt in years.

Logan's voice – he had completely forgotten the other man existed – came from behind him with a mocking, "So you were always an asshole."

Erik let the annoyance chase away the regret and he turned to the mutant. "So, I take it we're best buddies in the future?"

"I spent a lot of years trying to bring you down, bub." Logan replied with a sardonic grin as he lit up a cigar.

"And how does that work out for you?"

Logan's voice lost the mocking tone as he answered, "You're like me. You're a survivor." The man breathed out a cloud of smoke and then looked at Erik with irritation. "You gonna pick all that shit up?"

Erik raised an eyebrow at the last words, turning to take in the disarray he had thrown the cabin into. With a thought and a twitch of his finger he righted all the metal in the room. Then he bent to retrieve the few scattered odds and ends that had slid off various surfaces.

As he worked, he didn't allow himself to linger on the word Logan had used.

Survivor.

That word had a meaning to Erik that he doubted very much it had to Logan. That word was attached to far more pain than he liked to remember and he didn't appreciate having it tossed around as if it meant so little that anyone could take up the title.

He picked up a fallen glass, placing it back on the table and glancing around to confirm that he had cleared up all of his mess, and then he retreated to the couch again. Erik laid down on it, pressing a hand against his eyes and rubbing a thumb into his temple. This day was a nightmare. He had done everything wrong and his mind felt worn out and weighed down by too much. Clearly six months in solitary had done little for his social skills. Erik shifted to his side and rested his head against his arm in an attempt at a pillow. With nothing better to do, he drifted into sleep so his exhausted brain could perhaps have a chance to recuperate.

He dreamed, as he often did, of sharp blades and his own harsh screams echoing around a white room splashed with blood.

* * *

AN: So, Erik's day is going just wonderfully. Next chapter will be Charles' point of view and should be up soon.


	8. Ten Years

Charles drifted into the cockpit like a ghost, silent and haunted, though his heart still pounded in his chest with the adrenaline of the plane plummeting through the sky mere moments ago. He gave a wan smile to Hank, who returned it with an understanding nod, and then Charles collapsed into the co-pilot's chair and leaned his head back while he took some time to collect his thoughts.

It wasn't like he had expected this to be easy. On the contrary he had known from the moment he first heard the plan that it would be one of the hardest things he had ever done. All the mental preparation in the world though hadn't been enough to get him ready to see Erik again. The surge of emotions, complicated at best, had overwhelmed him from the moment those elevator doors slid open.

Every second since then had been a mad combination of anger, grief, and inexplicable guilt. Part of him wanted to toss Erik out of the plane and another part wanted to reach out to Erik for comfort.

It had been so long since he had seen his lover's face, so long since he heard Erik's voice, it was nearly impossible not to harbor at least some desire to just pretend nothing had ever happened. He wanted to sink into the familiarity that they once had, work as a team again.

As partners.

Charles' ever rational mind however kept repeating the moments that had torn them apart. Erik's joy at killing humans. Erik shutting him out again and again. Erik putting the school in danger by painting a target on all mutants. Erik callously throwing away everything they had built towards all for the sake of killing one man.

And just now, looking at the man he had once loved, all Charles could see was the boiling hate under the surface strong enough to bring a plane crashing from the sky. The man out there was one who seemed far more like the man who had spent years hunting Shaw and much less like the man who had shared lazy kisses with Charles as they laughed over breakfast. He wasn't quite a stranger, but he also wasn't the man who had left for Dallas over a decade ago.

"I'm not certain I can do this, Hank," Charles confessed as he sunk his head into his hands and rubbed lightly at his temple. "After everything he's done, how am I supposed to forgive him?"

Hank was silent for a minute; though the way his hands tightened on the controls made it clear he had heard the question perfectly. "Who ever said you had to forgive him?" was the quiet answer that finally came. "We can use him to save Raven and then throw him straight back to the government."

"No!" The word was forceful and seemed to surprise Charles just as much as it surprised Hank. Then he repeated a little quieter, "No. We are not sending him back there now that we've gotten him out."

"What exactly are you planning to do then? You know what he did, we can't just let him go."

Charles pressed harder against his temple, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to think of a way to handle this. "I know. I don't know what to do with him after this is over. I can't just shove him back in prison though, Hank. Back then, they took him and I never had to play a part. I'm not certain I could actively be the one to put him away for the rest of his life."

"I could," Hank growled out, but he immediately shot an apologetic look towards Charles. "I get it though. I just hope you figure out what you want to do sometime soon."

A brief and half-hearted hum of acknowledgement was all Charles felt the energy to give before lapsing back into silence. It had all made so much more sense just a few days ago. He hadn't needed to pay attention to anything beyond a bottle and a needle. Erik was in prison and Charles had accepted that fact years ago. More importantly, Charles had accepted that Erik was a monster bent on war. That was how he had justified himself for years, how he had been able to sleep at night even knowing Erik slept in a cell.

Despite the anger though, despite the blatant fury in Erik, Charles could also distinctly see the man underneath who he had told himself was dead. That fact alone tore at Charles in a way he had never expected to feel for Erik. Maybe the metal bender was right. Maybe Charles was not the only one who had been betrayed.

"Uh, Charles? I hate to disturb you…"

Wearily, Charles lifted his head to look at Hank. "Yes?"

In answer, the younger mutant merely gestured to his instrument panel. Charles blinked at it for a moment, not quite processing what was wrong, then he noticed the way the metal was rippling and warping. He was on his feet and throwing the door open into the cabin of the plane in seconds. "Erik, this is getting ridiculous! Leave the bloody plane alone!"

Logan looked up from his newspaper with startled eyes, glancing briefly to the prone figure laying on the couch. Sleeping.

Sleeping and surrounded by floating pieces of metal. A few coins, a pen, and seemingly any other small knick-knack that his power had grasped on to. It almost seemed peaceful for a moment, and Charles was reasonably certain Logan hadn't even noticed the display from where he sat buried in his reading.

Charles' eyes softened as he looked at the man, he remembered blissful mornings of waking up beside that same sleeping face. Then Erik's features shifted slightly into an expression Charles recognized just as well but far less happily and suddenly the metal dancing around him made sense in a horrible way.

A nightmare.

There shouldn't be nightmares anymore. Erik's nightmares about Shaw had stopped about three months after the man's death. Charles' heart clenched as he wondered what exactly Erik's mind had found in ten years that would cause a nightmare bad enough that Erik's power would get involved. Or perhaps the time in prison had dredged up all the memories of Shaw that Charles had thought were so carefully hidden away.

How long had Erik been suffering from nightmares again?

He took careful steps towards Erik, avoiding brushing against any of the metal as he passed it. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Logan shrugging and returning to his paper as if deciding that it wasn't his problem to deal with. Charles felt rather at a loss for how to deal with this, he had never woken Erik from a nightmare before without having his telepathy to use as a soothing balm afterwards. It was either figure it out or risk the nightmare getting worse and causing irreparable damage to the plane though, so Charles cautiously reached out for Erik's shoulder.

The moment his fingertips touched, Erik surged up with a startled yell and wild eyes while the floating metal fell with a dozen small clatters of sound. His gaze was unfocused, feral almost, and his chest heaved as he panted and clenched a hand across the numbers on his arm.

Charles recovered from the shock, moving forward again and situating himself beside Erik as he murmured, "Erik, you're safe. Everything's alright." He curled his fingers around Erik's pulling away the nails that were digging into the tattooed digits. The simple touch seemed to focus the metal bender, he blinked a few times as his eyes cleared and his breathing gradually grew steadier.

Confusion flowed across his face as he took in the sight of Charles sitting beside him on the couch, then his gaze shifted around the room and understanding seemed to dawn at last as he saw the scattered metal.

"I'm sorry," he rasped out without looking at Charles. "Did I cause any damage?"

"Nothing that can't be easily fixed," Charles assured him. "What happened?"

Erik visibly flinched at the question but said nothing. It was the first moment in years that Charles wished for his telepathy. Of all the people in the world, it was the enigma of Erik Lehnsherr who he wanted to solve even after all this time.

Charles realized suddenly that his hand was still wrapped around Erik's and at some point he had started rubbing his thumb along the older man's knuckles. He let go as if the touch burned and got to his feet a moment later. He was letting Erik get under his skin again and he hated himself for it.

Kennedy. Murder. Betrayal.

Charles repeated a litany of Erik's crimes in his head as he took a deep breath and shoved away the creeping warmth that had tried to curl around Erik's place in his heart again.

"Just… Try not to fall asleep again in the plane, yeah?" Charles suggested weakly. Erik gave a tired nod and dragged a hand across his eyes in a sign the younger man instantly recognized as a bone-tired fatigue.

With somewhat shaky steps Charles retreated to a chair by the window where he let the view of clouds passing by take over his senses.

Nobody moved in the cabin for a long time. Erik remained sitting up on the couch, tension clear in every line of his body. Logan started softly snoring at some point and the newspaper lay forgotten in front of him. Charles just tried to collect his thoughts into something even slightly coherent but he found it impossible. With a resigned sigh he reached across to the small bar and pulled out a glass and a bottle of scotch. With practiced movements he poured out two fingers of the drink and downed it before pouring again. This time he just held the glass, savoring the feel of the first drink lighting through his blood.

His hand moved slightly, sending the amber liquid swirling gently in the glass as Charles returned his gaze to the window. This time when he drank it was just a sip, less urgency to it now that the scotch had calmed his nerves to a degree.

When Erik started moving, Charles watched him warily out of the corner of his eye. The metal bender stood slowly, stretching out the tense muscles and pulling in a shuddering breath that made Charles want to reach out and comfort him. He took another sip of alcohol instead.

There was a gentle wave of Erik's hand and Charles felt his heart clench as he watched the chess set float smoothly into Erik's hands from wherever it had been stored. Charles had ignored that particular set for years, and its existence had been long forgotten, but it was made largely of metal so he supposed it was no surprise Erik would know it was here.

He turned his eyes completely towards Erik, staring openly at him as the older man hesitantly made his way closer to Charles with the chess board splayed across his palms. Charles took another swig of scotch but at this point he wasn't sure there was enough scotch on the plane to make this trip stop hurting.

"Fancy a game?" Erik asked, voice full of false confidence even as his eyes clearly displayed the fear of rejection and the lingering nightmare. "It's been awhile."

More than anything, Charles was annoyed at the way Erik was trying so hard to pretend that he was fine. That final lie on top of everything else just pushed him over the edge and allowed the annoyance to come back full force to drown out the worry and care. "I'm not in the mood for games, thanks," he replied as he dragged his gaze away from the pain he saw reflected in Erik's eyes.

The curt tone and obvious rejection did little to persuade Erik to leave. Instead the older man reached out for the bottle of scotch and grabbed up an empty glass as he said, voice still slightly hoarse with sleep, "I haven't had a sip in ten years."

Charles avoided watching as Erik poured the scotch, the task seemed far too much like the countless times they had shared a drink in the past. He worked instead on swallowing down the emotion that kept rising to the surface of his mind. The silence was like a physical presence swallowing him whole and Charles was so very tired of this constant back-and-forth happening in his mind.

"I didn't kill the president."

"The bullet curved, Erik." Charles responded automatically. It was the same response he had given Hank for years back when the other man still had some faith in Erik. It was the response he had repeated to himself in the lonely nights when his own mind would traitorously claim that perhaps Erik was innocent. That one irrefutable fact couldn't be denied though. The bullet had curved and Erik was the only one present who could have caused it.

Erik had killed Kennedy. There was no other possibility.

"Because I was trying to save him."

Charles breath caught and his mind stuttered on the words. He played them over again in his head, searching to see if there was a meaning there that he had missed the first time around. Logically, it could make sense. If someone else fired the bullet and Erik tried to change its course… His brow furrowed but he refused to meet the other man's burning stare.

"They took me out before I could," Erik continued. The tone of voice was one Charles knew, and ten years ago he would have sworn in a heartbeat that Erik was telling the truth. He struggled to remind himself that this man was not the same one he had known and the mannerisms and tells that he had once known so well could have changed entirely.

What if it _was_ the truth though? It was theoretically possible, it just didn't quite add up. There was one flaw in the words and Charles voiced it, fearing what the answer would be. "Why would you try to save him?" At last he looked to Erik, needing to see the man's expression for himself in the last vestiges of the hope that he could see a lie in the features he knew so well. If Erik was telling the truth…

"Because he was one of us."

Not a lie.

Not.

Erik stared back at him with desperation and a silent plea for Charles to believe him, and Charles did. The best word for what happened in his mind would probably be that it stalled. His entire thought process tripped over a landmine and exploded somewhere a few syllables back in the conversation. How could he have been so wrong? "But I was in your mind, I saw you kill the men who tried to arrest you," He protested feebly. "I _felt_ you enjoying it, Erik."

Sadness touched briefly at the edges of Erik's eyes and he answered softly, "They knew my name. I was terrified they would be able to trace me back to you… to the school. I killed them because I thought if they captured me they could go after you next."

"You _enjoyed _it…" It wasn't even an accusation anymore, just a weak attempt to cling to all the justifications he had built up for a decade.

Erik moved to sit across from him, leaning forward as his fingers curled around the glass of scotch in his hand. "Of course I enjoyed it, Charles. I was taking down men who I thought were going to put you in danger. I would have killed more if I had the time before they got me. I was defending my family and I would do it again without hesitation."

Ten years.

Ten years of believing this man to be a monster. Ten years of hollow excuses to justify not going after him. Ten years of taking the word of the government instead of pushing harder for the truth.

He could blame it partially on Erik shutting him out, but Charles knew he could easily have broken through Erik's mental barricades if he had only bothered to give the man a chance.

He remembered his own determination to close himself off from Erik in those first few months. The anger and pain that had spurred him to build temporary walls in case Erik tried to reach to him for comfort. Back then Charles had thought of it as making Erik live with the consequences of his actions for a while, but perhaps if he had been there in Erik's mind he could have seen the truth.

Charles let out a broken gasp of air as he blinked away the building moisture behind his eyes. He turned to the glass of scotch and took another swallow, letting the burn chase away the rising anguish and guilt. At least temporarily.

Ten years he had left Erik to rot for a crime he hadn't committed.

Ten years in prison for doing nothing but trying to save a fellow mutant and protecting the people he loved.

"Charles," Erik cut in with a gentle voice. He laid a hand on top of Charles' and the younger man found he didn't have the will, or the desire, to move away from the touch. "You didn't know."

"I should have fought harder for the truth," Charles replied in a whisper. He fully realized the way his words mirrored the same one's Erik had thrown at him earlier. He should have fought harder.

"We can't change the past, but if your new friend over there is right, we can change the future together. Let's focus on that."

Charles nodded slightly, looking into Erik's eyes and seeing dozens of emotions passing through too quickly to be grasped. He wished again for his telepathy, the ability to curl inside Erik's mind the way he once had. It had been years since he had checked, but Charles was positive that the thread between them would still be intact if he sought it out. Merely a matter of following that fragile path back home to the mind he felt he belonged in just as much as his own.

Right now, Erik was right. They needed to focus on the future. They needed to do what they could to prevent the future that Logan had come from. A future where the war Erik had always feared would come, had decimated their kind.

"You must think me so foolish," Charles stated when he felt he could speak properly again. "You always said they would come after us."

"I never thought they would use Raven's DNA to do it," Erik answered. "I am sorry she left, I would never have expected her to take up a war. You should be proud of her though, she's out there fighting for our cause."

"_Your_ cause," Charles corrected. "She went off to rescue you and to destroy the humans. You may not have given the instructions, but it was your thought process she followed. Revenge instead of trying to find peace. The girl I raised, she wasn't capable or murder."

Erik leaned back in his chair, raising the glass of scotch to his lips as he pointed out, "You didn't raise her, Charles. You grew up with her. She couldn't stay a little girl forever, that's why she left."

"She left because the second you were taken she decided you were right about the inevitable war. She left, because you got inside her head."

A bitter smile etched itself on Erik's features as he said, "That's not my power." The bitterness faded just as quickly as it had come and Erik spoke again much gentler, "She made a choice, Charles. If it's any consolation I wish she hadn't made the one she did."

"Now we know where her choice leads," Charles remarked sadly. "She's going to murder Trask, they're going to capture her, and then they're going to wipe us out."

"Not if we get to her first," Erik fired back. It was odd hearing him be the voice of hope between the two of them and Charles wondered when he had so completely lost his own optimism. "Not if we change history tomorrow."

Silence fell again between them but for the first time it wasn't the tense quiet from earlier but rather a peaceful quiet between friends. It was an improvement and Charles couldn't help the small smile he gave Erik.

The metal bender returned the expression momentarily but then he let the smile fade back into seriousness as he murmured, "I'm sorry, Charles. For the way everything turned out."

Charles felt the burn of guilt crawling up in him again and rather than acknowledge it he downed the rest of his scotch and then gestured to the chess set and said, "It's been a while since I've played."

Ten years.

"I'll go easy on you. Might finally be a fair fight." Erik answered with a touch of forced humor.

So things were better, but they were far from okay. He wasn't certain what he felt anymore. There was guilt and sadness, but the sense of abandonment and betrayal still lingered. Ten years of blaming Erik for his every pain would not so easily be erased. Charles suspected Erik had a few things that he blamed Charles for as well.

"Your move," Charles pointed out instead of actually voicing any of the thoughts running through his mind.

With a gentle touch of power, Erik slid a piece forward and they lapsed into the game that they had shared together so many times.

* * *

AN: Next chapter will be Charles again as we get to Paris and encounter Raven. Update will be up soon ^_^


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